


Nocturne

by railise



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Gen, Romance, Series 1, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/railise/pseuds/railise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginning the morning after the Series 1 finale; when the sheriff deals with Marian and Edward, it quickly becomes evident that the Night Watchman was as important to the peasants as the outlaws are. Robin has a plan to right the situation-- and it appears he might not be the only one who does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An absolutely gorgeous painting was created to accompany this fic, by [shinysparks](http://shinysparks.livejournal.com) at LiveJournal, where it was originally written for the [2010 Robin Hood BBC Big Bang](http://community.livejournal.com/rhbigbang/24739.html). The painting can be viewed [here](http://community.livejournal.com/rhbigbang/24368.html).

Marian would have preferred to have her neck rubbed raw by a rope, rather than endure the chill of the stone block as it seeped into her cheek. And if she were to be hanged, she would be wearing a hood; and would thus be prevented from seeing the anguish on her father's face as he was forced to witness her execution, before being brought forward for his own.

She felt as though she should be experiencing a sense of dread or panic, or readying her soul for its judgment. She should be crying, or perhaps, laughing hysterically. However, she was numb. None of it seemed real: not the bindings on her wrists; not the rough planks scraping her knees through her skirts; not the crowd staring in silent horror. The lack of excited chatter which usually scored the sheriff's entertainments might have been the strangest aspect of the entire situation. While it bespoke the esteem in which Marian was held by rich and poor alike, she was hardly about to be comforted by the knowledge. The hush merely served to reinforce the dreamlike quality of the situation, as well as allowing the bootsteps of the headsman to echo resoundingly off every angle of the walls surrounding the courtyard as he approached her.

Vaizey had already pronounced her sentence and bounced expectantly beside Edward, his new replacement tooth catching what little light there was in this overcast dawn when he grinned. He leaned forward, glancing at his predecessor's face to ensure that the older man was watching, before turning a keen gaze back on Marian. Their eyes locked, and she read triumph in his. Despite what everyone around them said, despite his fallibility in so many situations, he had never trusted her. The sheriff had always known that she was more than anyone believed her to be, and for that, she held for him the tiniest smidgen of respect. She knew that he was vile, rotten, and had no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but at least he had recognized in her the danger that she posed. No one else was remotely aware of it.

No one except Robin, that was.

 _No._ Her mind rejected any thought of him yet. She could handle nearly everything this situation encompassed... but not that. Instead, she looked at Guy, standing ramrod straight beside Vaizey, his face impassive. Expecting him to be glaring at her, or possibly giving her a wounded stare, she was surprised to find that his line of sight passed as far above her as it could without being obvious. Even in the pale light, she was able to discern a mark on his cheek from her discarded wedding ring. A couple of days ago, she might have felt badly about that; but, considering he had attempted to marry her through coercion and deceit, and now made no move to preserve her life, any sympathy she might have had for him was decidedly absent.

The headsman reached his place behind her and stopped. "Do you forgive me for what I must do?" he asked quietly. Marian had heard the words from him or his colleagues when she was in attendance at the punishments of others, but she had never heard them sound so remorseful.

"I forgive you," she replied calmly. "But I ask that you consider another line of work after today."

At the demand of several of the nobles whom he had not killed during his stunt with the fake King Richard, Vaizey had called for a sword to be used in place of the axe. Marian knew she should be grateful, but mainly she was contemptuous of the men who either sided with the sheriff the entire time, or who now lost their nerve to counter him, in order to try to help her. They had intended to play the long game, but the time for that was past; perhaps, Robin had been right all along, and it was the wrong decision to begin with. Perhaps, they should all have taken to the forest ages ago.

The blade was laid gently across her neck, lining up the blow, and she closed her eyes. She could not watch her father's face when it happened, she _would_ not watch Vaizey's, and she did not want to watch Guy's. Finally, she allowed herself to think of Robin.

It was amazing, this emotional journey she had been on; like riding on a storm. From feeling cornered and alone; to desperately wracking her brain for a plan to obtain the future she wanted; then, to suppressing her wishes in order to come to terms with her possible future as Lady Gisborne; to nearly dying; and then, essentially ripping out her own heart when she made Robin go. But, it all seemed as though it would work out, that she might finally have found a way to be with the man she loved, the one who understood and accepted her for herself, unlike anyone else around her.

And, just as she was daring to be happy, it was all coming to an end. She had found no opportunity to rescue herself or her father, and that was while keeping a sharp eye out. There had been no time to alert Robin, especially not without knowing where the gang was camped.

She was about to die. In that case, she would go with dignity; no sobbing or pleading. That had never been her style, and she was not about to finish out her life in such an uncharacteristic way. In fact, she wanted to go out smiling.

So, Marian thought of that kiss-- the one that meant so much more than any other kiss, even more than their very first one all those years ago. They had been little more than children then, nearly grown but still so far from being complete, and that had merely been a beginning. Yesterday's kiss was likewise a beginning, but it was also an affirmation. This time, it was not two, bright-eyed young people experimenting with a possibility; it was two, more worldly young adults declaring themselves and making a decision to try for what they knew they wanted.

That was all beside the fact that it had been perfect. Not that she would ever have told him so, but Robin had always been an incredible kisser, and Marian took some measure of pride in her own skill, as well. That, combined with the sentiment behind it, could result in nothing less than perfection. Also, being that this was her last thought, she may as well allow it to be fanciful: there was something thrilling about the fact that he had leaned sideways off of his horse to reach her. She tried not to let herself dwell on it before, but it was just so dashing, the sort of thing a girl might daydream about when she was being silly, but not something she expected to ever actually happen...

...it had been so very Robin.

She was going to die with a smile on her face, and her lips did indeed curve as she recalled the feel of his mouth and the way he tasted, the sensation of his hand cupping her cheek, the way his whiskers rubbed her nose and chin (which would have irritated her on any other man, but she did not mind it then), how the scent of horse managed to overcome his rather woodsy aroma of late, and that gorgeous smile as he straightened away from her. It had been impossible not to smile back as she watched him ride off, satisfaction radiating off of her like sunlight. He had come for her, after all, when she thought he had given up, and he would help save her father and anyone else he could. And, even though she had tried to fight it, she loved him.

She was smiling, but a tear slipped down her cheek as the sword was raised.

The arrows hit precisely where they were intended: one severed the rope binding Marian's wrists, at the same moment that the second caught the top of the headsman's hood, yanking it over his face without injuring him. It happened as the sword was at its zenith, just far enough back that when its wielder dropped it in surprise, the weapon clattered harmlessly to the ground behind him.

Despite the fact that she had been unprepared, Marian wasted no time in reacting. She instantly pulled away from the block, kicking out to knock back the headsman as he fixed his hood. The heavy skirts of her wedding-cum-execution gown made that difficult; it was fortunate that he was already off-balance, or she might not have succeeded. A pair of castle guards rushed forward, but a cluster of arrows burrowing into the wooden platform in front of their feet brought them to a quick halt.

Marian glanced in the direction from which the missiles originated, beaming when Robin swept her a theatrical bow. "Sorry to be running late!" he called down. "The messenger must have misplaced our invitation!" With that, he grabbed onto a rope that was tied off to the crenellation in the wall beside him, and descended toward the courtyard.

"Hood!" Vaizey snarled from the castle steps. The syllable had not even left his mouth before Guy was shoving his way through the gathered peasants, trying to get to where Robin was about to set foot. Glaring at the myriad guards standing near him, the sheriff bellowed, " _Get him!_ "

As the armored men rushed to follow orders, Marian jumped down, snagging the headsman's fallen sword. The guards who had been holding her father had dashed off to deal with Robin and the rest of the gang, who were able to get halfway through the crowd before they were confronted; and Marian was going to get Edward out while everyone was distracted. She paused momentarily to slice the front of her skirts with the sword, ripping it above the cut to the height she needed. It was indecent when the tear opened, but it would barely be noticeable when she was standing still, and she was wearing thick leggings underneath; and, that was beside the fact that she did not stand a chance otherwise. With that accomplished, she hurried forward.

Unfortunately, Vaizey was not as easily distracted as those he employed, even when under attack by outlaws, and he realized what she had in mind. She was still several feet away when he produced a dagger and held it under Edward's chin. "Uh-uh, missy," he chided. "That's not how this is going to end."

As she hesitated, a few castle guards came up around her; she was not sure how many were behind her, but she could see three out of her peripheral vision. "Marian, go!" her father urged.

The current sheriff turned an exaggerated look of surprise on him. "‘Go?' Yes, Marian; by all means, go." As he spoke, he drew the blade lightly along the older man's throat, leaving a thin, red line behind it.

Edward cringed, but maintained eye contact with his daughter. "Do not worry about me. Save yourself."

"Oh, how noble," Vaizey drawled, bringing his free hand around Edward's neck to test the wound he had just made, appearing uninterested as he rubbed the blood he found between his thumb and forefinger.

Marian remained frozen, staring at her father in dismay as the men crept closer to her. She was trying desperately to figure out a plan of action, but coming up blank. She could hurl her sword at Vaizey, and while he would probably duck, Edward would have a chance to run-- but, she would then be caught. Or, she could take out the guards, and escape-- but, not until she would see her father cut open in front of her.

Suddenly, an arrow flew beside her head, close enough that her hair moved in its wake, and scoring Vaizey's dagger arm before clattering into the stone steps beyond him. Reflexively, the sheriff pulled back, and the reprieve for her father gave Marian the impetus to deal with her own attackers. Swinging her sword up as she turned, she knocked the guard behind her in the side of the helmet hard enough to fell him. The men on either side of her swooped in, and she ducked and rolled out of their way, kicking one in the lower back as she rose, which knocked him into the guard opposite him. They both went down, and she jumped nimbly over them to deal with their employer.

He and his predecessor were in a losing standoff. Edward's hands were still bound, and while he had gotten loose from Vaizey's grip, he had no means to fight or escape. Vaizey stood between him and the courtyard, dagger out, and a wicked gleam in his cold eyes.

Rushing over, Marian held her sword at the ready as she took a place beside Edward, trying to move in front of him. "Father, get back," she muttered, not taking her gaze from their opponent. If Vaizey attacked, Edward would be in the way, and could either get hurt, or hinder her movements.

"I told you to go," he replied irritably, moving back just barely enough.

She let out a small laugh. "Fortunately for you, I do not take orders well." She could tell that his answering laugh was despite himself, but it made her smile widen.

Vaizey was less impressed, and she could tell that he was poising to move. "My guards might hesitate to take you down because you are a woman, but I have no such qualms."

"I'm well aware of it," she replied tightly, having to dodge his attack before she finished speaking. She brought her sword down, aiming for his arm, but had to twist in such a way to avoid getting cut, that the flat side of the blade met him, instead of the edge. It fended him off, but only momentarily. Instead of pulling back to regroup as she expected him to do, he flipped the knife around in his hand and brought his arm back and up behind her, aiming near her kidney. She realized what he was doing just in time, the small blade fraying the brocade of her dress, but not damaging her person. Still, dodging it knocked her off-balance, and she staggered a couple of steps before righting herself in front of her father. Vaizey still stood between the two of them and freedom, and he was obviously determined not to let them get any closer to it.

Familiar, raised voices and the clang of steel nearby told her that Robin and Guy were locked in a fight of their own which had moved around the courtyard, but she could not listen to them, could not look at them. Vaizey had often put her in mind of a rodent, perhaps a rabid badger; now, however, he was a snake, coiled and ready to strike, and all of her attention was directed toward him.

"The block would've been quicker, but good job; this is _much_ more fun." He grinned, and Marian wished there were something maniacal in his gaze. The evenness with which he regarded her was so very unsettling. She had seen some people who were capable of maintaining that sort of mask for effect; but, she was certain that it was no mask, not as far as he was concerned.

"So glad I could accommodate you," she replied dryly.

He chuckled, the sound ominous as ever. Vaguely, she wondered if he had ever not radiated evil, if there had been a time when he was almost human. It was difficult, if not impossible, to imagine. "Apparently, there _is_ a first time for everything... such as dying!" he added, lunging forward.

The movement was more erratic than she expected, but she still managed to parry it. "Already had a go at that, thanks," she muttered as she pushed him away.

As he straightened, something on the dagger caught her eye. She was stunned to see that it was now covered in blood, the stuff running up to pool against Vaizey's hand where he gripped it. He had not gotten her, she was sure of it--

Whirling in horror, she cried, "Father!"

Edward clutched his side, a bright stain already spreading down his tunic, his eyes wide in shock as he staggered. Without thinking, Marian dropped her sword and moved to catch him. His weight pulled on her own wound, something she had been able to ignore until now, and she gasped at the sharp pain as she lowered him carefully down on the cobblestones. "It's all right," he said, his voice tight.

"Hmm. That's very sweet, isn't it?" Vaizey said from behind them. "It would be a shame to bring it to an end."

Marian glanced over her shoulder and saw him smirking as he swung the dagger about, the handle loosely gripped between his fingertips. He knew how the fight was going to end, and was not in the least bit concerned about it. Fury warred with agony in her heart, and she knew that this confrontation was not leaning in her favor. But, nor could she allow him to go unpunished for what he had just done.

As she grabbed the sword and rose, Vaizey's gaze drifted to her stomach, where a small, crimson blotch was appearing on her dress, and his brows lifted an iota. She could tell that he was thinking about it, but that he had not yet placed the injury. Bracing herself for a possible opening to attack, she nearly laughed when she saw enlightenment suddenly dawn on his face.

"Oh, you _cannot_ be serious," he moaned.

She gave him a toothy grin as she held the sword in front of herself. "Surprised?"

His jaw jutted forward as he stared at her in a new light. "Not really." Suddenly, he whipped the dagger at her. Startled by the action, Marian might have stood there until the thing embedded itself deeply into her chest, except that something collided with her, knocking her safely out of the way as a grunt sounded from behind where she had just stood.

It was not something who knocked her to safety, it was some _one_. "Sorry," Djaq apologized as she rolled to the side and stood. Offering Marian a hand up, she nodded to the bloodstain and said, "I hope I did not hurt you more."

"I'm fine," Marian said absently, looking over her shoulder. A guard was clutching his sword arm, the hilt of the dagger protruding from just above his elbow. Groaning as he went, the man ran toward the castle entrance. Meanwhile, Little John had moved in and had Vaizey well under control, his staff across the sheriff's throat by the time Marian turned back. Djaq moved quickly toward Edward, and after making sure they were in no more immediate danger, Marian joined her. Djaq had already ripped the damaged fabric around his wound, and was leaning down to examine it closely. "Well?" Marian asked tersely.

"I do not think it is serious, but we need to get him out of here," Djaq muttered.

"We need to get all of us out of here," Marian murmured, taking in the chaos around them. While only a couple small pockets of fighting remained, there were still several guards trying to regain control of the panicked crowd, and the entire situation was far too volatile. And, it was far too likely to turn against them at any moment. The other woman gave an unamused snort of agreement.

A hand on Marian's shoulder made her jump, and she cursed herself for being unaware when Robin said, "What happened?"

"The sheriff stabbed him," she replied.

"Apparently, not well enough," the perpetrator in question muttered. The remark ended on an " _urk_ " sort of sound, when John pulled back on the quarterstaff.

Peering behind Robin, Marian asked, "Where's Guy?"

He frowned at the question. "Why do you care?"

She frowned back. "That's not an answer." The truth was that she did not care in the way he implied, especially after the events of the last day; still, if he was dead or wounded, she wanted to know. On top of that, they hardly had the time for petty jealousies, and she was not about to humor Robin's.

Despite the staff pressing against his windpipe, Vaizey chuckled. "Trouble in Paradise?"

Robin shot him a dirty look and then turned back to Marian, clearly displeased. "He's unconscious, but he'll live."

She could tell when he was lying, and that was truth. Giving him a small nod, she said, "We need to go."

Irritations aside, he returned her nod. "Right." Stepping over to the sheriff, he cheerfully said, "Good night, Vaizey," and landed a solid punch to the point of the man's jaw, knocking him out cold. John released his grip, letting his captive slump gracelessly to the cobbles. Joining Djaq, John carefully picked up Edward, as Robin let out a piercing whistle.

"My gang, this way!" he called, gesturing toward the side gate. He reached for Marian's hand, turning to her as he did. It was the first time they had faced one another, and as he noticed the blood on the front of her dress, fear flashed across his features. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but she knew what she had seen, and it made her heart ache.

"It's nothing," she said quietly. "Just the stitches." She was fairly certain of that, anyway, being that the pain seemed to be remaining on the surface, and not spreading deep within herself, as it had before.

Giving her an almost chiding look, but one which was laced with a goodly dose of his usual humor, he swept her up and headed toward the side gate, where the rest of the gang was already ducking out. It would still take them past the main gate, but most of the guards who remained on their feet had been working their way through the crowd toward the castle steps; so, the coast should be more or less clear.

As he picked her up, she gave his shoulder a shove. "I am perfectly capable of walking."

"I have no doubt of that," he replied, already in motion. "However, I am perfectly capable of carrying you, so just enjoy the ride." While his tone was mostly teasing, there was a strange, almost tense, note to it, which she recognized as worry. If this eased his mind, she could accept the gesture.

There were several horses tied along the main street, and the outlaws liberated some of them. The ride would be difficult on the injured pair, but it made escaping the city gates and getting into the forest much easier.

And, Robin insisted that Marian share his horse, riding in front of him in case she was hurting worse than she claimed and thus was in danger of losing consciousness. For about half a second, she considered arguing that, as well; but, it was a valid concern from his perspective, and they were in too much of a hurry to deliberate, so she agreed.

If she were to say that part of her acquiescence was not due to the fact that it was a very pleasant way to travel, pain from the wound aside, she would be a liar.

As they exited the town and approached the treeline, the sounds of chaos faded in the distance, Marian wondered what would happen next. She was so accustomed to planning everything out, and she had no plan this time. She did not even have one of Robin's half-plans.

The shadows of Sherwood swallowed them up as an uncertain future settled around her.


	2. Chapter 2

When the gang reached camp, it was starting to drizzle, so they quickly grabbed their things and headed for a small cave system nearby. It was not quite as well-hidden as the one they had gone to earlier, but it was across a pair of streams and north a bit; so, if dogs were sent after them, they should lose the scent. The outlaws freed their horses after crossing the second stream, near enough to their destination that they could complete the journey on foot without much trouble.

Robin was not pleased when Marian insisted on walking, still concerned that she was more injured than she was letting on; however, she seemed to be holding herself normally and the bleeding was not bad, so he held off on any further debate. Meanwhile, he found himself thankful anew for Little John's strength. The big man was keeping up with the rest of the gang while carrying Edward, a burden which would have greatly slowed anyone else down. For Edward's part, he was apparently doing his best to be quiet, but a groan would escape him every now and then. Being moved when one was injured was unpleasant at best, an experience with which Robin was more familiar than he cared to consider, and he was impressed with Edward's fortitude.

When they reached the caves with no signs of pursuit as yet, Much laid out some of the furs and blankets he had collected at camp, making a bed for the wounded man, and Djaq quickly tended to Edward. Fortunately, Vaizey's dagger had missed everything of import, and after Djaq got him sewn up, she tended to Marian's belly. As Marian had thought, it was her stitches, nothing internal; while it hurt, it was not serious.

Once he was reassured and everyone was starting to settle in, Robin wandered outside to have a quick moment to himself. The brief rain had turned into a mist, and the sky was desperately attempting to lighten despite the lingering heavy, grey clouds. Propping his hands on his hips, Robin tilted his chin up, breathing deeply of the fresh morning air. He tried not to think about the sight of Marian tied to the block, seconds away from death. That was the third time he had almost lost her within a scant couple of days; momentarily dying due to the actions of that traitor Pitts, a handful of words away from marrying Gisborne, and now, nearly executed at the order of the sheriff. They said that things came in threes, and Robin hoped that was true. But, in case it was not, he was glad that she was away from the castle and everyone associated with it.

Now, it was time to let those thoughts go. He had just closed his eyes, when he felt, rather than heard, someone come up behind him. Glancing over, he returned Marian's smile.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" she asked.

"Not at all," he assured her. Their smiles melted away as they regarded one another, and then she stepped up and slid her arms around him, as he embraced her in return.

"How did you know?" Her voice was slightly muffled by his shirt, but she did not seem bothered, making no attempt to move.

Resting his cheek against the top of her head, Robin replied, "Clara, a castle maid, came for us as soon as she heard. It's a good thing Will was up early, or we probably would have missed her." The thought chilled his blood, but he focused on the fact that Marian was alive and well and cuddled against him, and managed to shake the feeling.

"I shall be certain to thank her."

He pulled back enough to look at her. "When?"

With so much going on, he was not surprised that she had not had time to realize the significance of what had happened. Seeing the knowledge dawn in her eyes, he held her close again as she murmured, "I can never go back. Not freely, that is."

"No," he said gently. "Not as long as Vaizey, or any other lackey of Prince John, is sheriff."

"That used to be my home, as much as Knighton. I grew up there, too."

With a soft laugh devoid of much humor, Robin replied, "I understand."

"I guess you do," she remarked with a laugh of her own, after a startled moment. They stood there for awhile more, and then she asked, "What should I do?"

"You could stay with me. With us."

Sighing heavily, she stepped back, taking hold of his hands. "You know I cannot; Father can't live in the forest, and I will not abandon him."

Robin had expected that, but he was disappointed, nonetheless. "What are your other options?"

She swung their hands slightly as she thought. "A convent, perhaps? They take in the infirm."

"Some do. But, if you go to a convent, you would be more restricted than ever in where you went and what you did." _And I could not see you as easily,_ he added silently, but this was not the time to express his own concerns. That was the same reason he had neglected to mention something he had learned about the week before. At the time, it had meant nothing to their situation; now, it meant everything. Reluctantly, he told her, "A Crusader passed through on his way home, several days ago. He's called Sir Godfrey of Truro; he's an older man with a large house, and he spoke of wanting to invite intelligent, interesting individuals to stay with him upon his return, so that he would not get restless. He felt that stimulating conversation would be a fair trade for room and board.

"He was a good friend to both the king and myself, and owes me his life, into the bargain. I am certain he will be pleased to have you in his home, and he's influential enough that Vaizey would not be able to touch you, should he even find you." Suppressing a sigh as he acknowledged to himself that this was likely to be what Marian did, Robin continued, "He has daughters around your age, so both you and your father would be more than welcome."

She nodded slowly, processing what he said. He knew that relying on the charity of strangers would not appeal to her, but he also knew that their hands were tied. "It would be quite a journey," she finally replied.

"You would be safe from the sheriff." Stating the fact did not mean that he liked it, but he had to acknowledge that it was a legitimate benefit.

"I do not want to leave." Her words were heartfelt, moreso than she usually allowed, and echoed his own misery at the prospect.

"I do not want you to leave."

"Then, come up with another idea. Help me think of something else."

Robin stared at her, wracking his brain and still coming up empty. He had not even wished to address the idea of Sir Godfrey, but it was all he had. The corner of her mouth curved in a regretful smile, a sad acknowledgement that he could not provide an answer. Releasing his hands, Marian ran her own along his face and then into his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. When it started to become too difficult to hide his desperation at the thought of losing her yet again, he broke it off, but continued to hold her for awhile.

"We should get out of the rain." Her hair was starting to get laden with the mist, and his own could be no better; and, that was not even to mention their clothing.

"We should," she agreed, taking his hand once more, lacing her fingers through his as they went back into the cave.

Much had set up a small fire near the entrance, and was beginning to cook breakfast. The gang had not eaten, and Robin doubted that Marian or Edward had, either. Fortunately, they had something good to offer; along with news of the impending execution, the maid Clara had also brought ham and some eggs from the castle kitchens.

Giving Robin's hand a squeeze, Marian let go and went to check on her father, who was pale, yet sitting up. After they had quietly spoken, Allan asked, "So, what happened back there? I thought it all worked out pretty well yesterday."

Leaning against a fairly smooth portion of the rock wall, arms crossed over his chest, Robin quietly said, "It worked out _too_ well."

Marian gave him a nod, but Edward frowned. "I do not know that I would put it that way."

That earned him a confused look from his daughter. "What do you mean? The sheriff was utterly humiliated; we could not have asked for a better end to his scheme."

"We could have asked for you to exercise more restraint," he told her severely. "If you had done as you intended, and gone through with the wedding--"

"You would be dead," Robin interrupted him, not liking the expression on Marian's face, which hovered somewhere between hurt and furious.

Clearly, she did not appreciate that statement, either. While she scowled at Robin, Edward's irritation was directed away from her, so it was worth her ire. "Perhaps," the older man acknowledged, still not appeased. "But, Marian would be comfortably situated at Locksley now, instead of outlawed and hiding in a cave."

Marian was nearly breathing fire. "How would I be 'comfortably situated' if I were married to a man who had taken part in the deception which cost my father his life? A man who also tried to kill the king?" she demanded. Robin felt a surge of satisfaction at that; finally, she believed him. He wondered what had changed her mind, but was not overly concerned with finding out.

"You would not have been nearly executed, and in danger of facing that same fate if you are again caught," he snapped. "You _had_ to willfully defy the one man who could protect you from the sheriff."

The gang was visibly uncomfortable at witnessing the argument, although only Much had something to keep him occupied, as the scent of food began to fill the cave; and Marian seemed equally conscious of their presence. Robin did not like that Edward's outburst was alienating the very people who had helped him, nor did he like hearing that Edward apparently still saw Gisborne as a source of protection, after everything that had happened. "Are you referring to the man who was standing beside the sheriff, ready to watch as Marian lost her head?"

"That situation would never have come about, if she had just done what she was supposed to do," Edward replied testily.

"But, I did not," Marian said with exasperation. "And, I am glad that I did not." She met Robin's eyes, and returned his small smile.

Edward sighed heavily, and everyone relaxed when it seemed that the quarrel was past.

"I still don't get what happened yesterday," Allan finally said, when there had been silence for a minute.

"As we were leaving the castle, when the sheriff was being let down from the ceiling"-- there was a moment of collective amusement as they all recalled that sight,-- "he ordered our arrest for associating with outlaws, since Robin rescued Father from him," Marian explained.

"And because reports came in from Locksley that you rode off from your wedding with him," Edward added dourly. "One of the guards from the west gate reported in, as well, while I was being interrogated." Embarrassed at what must have been reported, Marian glanced away from him; but he had Robin's full attention now.

"Which one?" Robin asked. He had known both guards, since their families received assistance from the outlaws, and would never have kissed Marian in front of them if he thought they could not be trusted.

Edward shook his head. "I do not know them. Does it matter?"

It was Robin's turn to sigh, as he admitted to himself that it did not. Both of those guards had wives and children to care for, which was the whole reason they had taken the employment that they could get, and the gang would not allow their families to starve.

Will spoke up. "We should get more supplies today, blankets and clothing, and things."

It was evident that he was referring to supplying the new outlaws, and Marian glanced at Robin once more, this time appearing distinctly uncomfortable. Edward also looked taken aback.

Robin turned his head, watching Much cook without really seeing anything. "That's a good plan, but we will not need a lot. What we _do_ need, is someone with a cart who is willing to make a long trip." Looking back to the others, he said, "Edward and Marian are going to Cornwall."

"What?" the startled former sheriff asked his daughter. After she explained, he agreed, "That may be our best bet." He was as hesitant to admit it as any of them, but they were left with little choice.

Robin realized that Will was watching him, and briefly looked to his friend; seeing sympathy in the younger man's eyes, Robin quickly glanced away again.

Pulling bowls and spoons out of his pack, Much dished up breakfast and began passing it around. When Marian came over and sat down beside him to eat, instead of by her father, Robin was pleasantly surprised. There was not much to say, but merely sharing one another's company was enough.

It looked as though there would be little of that in the days and months ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin and John had gone out to see about arranging a ride for the pair bound for Cornwall, and Marian found the atmosphere in the cave odd without the outlaws' leader. Her father was not speaking with her. She had once considered Much a friend of sorts, although that had been many years ago. As for the others, she was familiar with them now, but not well; and she was not confident about how welcome she truly was.

Spotting a bit of light at the back of the cave, she walked toward it, and realized that there was a second "room." It had an overhead opening, which was letting in some of the weak sunlight, and she stepped through the slit in the rock wall to take a better look. As she was about halfway across the area, thinking to herself that it was just like the area she had just left, she heard someone enter behind her.

Turning, she saw Djaq standing there. Holding out a hand, the Saracen woman said, "I am sorry; I hope I did not startle you."

"No, it's fine," Marian replied. Stepping around a shallow pool that had formed beneath the hole in the roof, she glanced back. "Was there something you wanted?" She was not being rude; she was legitimately curious. When Djaq had apologized to her for underestimating her bravery after operating on her, Marian wondered if they might have something in common. Before, she would have doubted it; their lives seemed too different to allow for much mutual ground. Perhaps she had been mistaken; she hoped that she had.

Stepping further into the room, Djaq approached her. "I think it is wise, that you are leaving."

That was not precisely what Marian had expected. "Oh?"

"Really, I am surprised you did not go years ago."

Marian shook her head at that, brushing the words away. "My father would not leave. Besides, we could accomplish more by staying."

"And, any word from Robin would have been delayed in reaching you."

Startled, Marian stared at her. She had never admitted that to anyone, and never would. "That is true," she stiffly acknowledged.

Djaq shrugged. "That is not what I wished to speak with you about, though."

Warily, Marian asked, "What was your intended topic?"

"It is quite personal," the smaller woman warned. "That is why I thought it might be best coming from me, although I am not the only one wondering."

Marian sincerely did not wish to discuss anything more personal than what had already been broached, but her curiosity was also growing. "Very well."

Satisfied that she meant it, Djaq said, "Your wound. How did you intend to explain it to Gisborne, had you gone through with the marriage?"

That _was_ personal, and Marian could feel a flush staining her cheeks, despite herself. "I beg your pardon?"

That might have deterred most people, but not Djaq. "He is a fool, but he is not stupid."

Marian studied her for a moment, and finally reached a decision. "Neither am I."

"I did not think you were," Djaq said, taken aback.

Shaking her head, Marian said, "That is not what I meant."

Realization suddenly dawned. "You were not intending that he should ever see it."

"I thought my father would be speaking with the king. Guy was so closely associated with the sheriff, that even without Robin's claims of treason, he would surely be severely punished. And, when Robin did present his story, he would face more dire consequences."

"Why did you not tell anyone of this?" Djaq asked. "You made Robin believe you gave up on him."

Marian glanced down. "I had my reasons." Looking back to the other woman, she explained, "There was always the possibility that something could go wrong-- as it would have done, without Much's intervention. I did not want to give false hope to Robin, or to myself; saying things aloud always makes them seem more real." Djaq nodded in agreement, and Marian continued, "And also, I wanted to try to convince the king to spare Guy's life. I would have sought an annulment, which I'm certain would be granted, but I did not wish to see him hanged.

"You can see why I would not wish to admit that to Robin, as he would not understand." Nor would she admit to anyone that there had been just a touch of selfish vindication behind her actions, as well. Six years earlier, Robin had ended their betrothal in order to follow this king's father to the Holy Land. His search for glory had destroyed her younger self, plunging her into a sadness so consuming that she had become physically ill. While she would not wish that upon him, she could not feel entirely badly about allowing him to taste what it was like to be jilted, even though they were not at any real understanding this time around. But, that was too dark a glimpse into her mind to share with anyone. "Nor do I need to tell him of that; it's enough that I wished to protect us both from potential disappointment."

"I do not understand, either, but I suppose you have your reasons. And, he will likely figure it out on his own."

"Perhaps." He always was far too insightful.

Djaq suddenly smiled at her. "You are much more interesting than I once thought."

That sounded like a backhanded compliment, but Marian suspected there was no insult intended. Smiling back, she replied, "You are much more normal than _I_ once thought."

With a short laugh, Djaq turned and began to walk back toward the main area of the cave. When she was about halfway there, she paused and turned back. "I hope that we have an opportunity to speak more someday."

"Me, too."

* * *

A wagon was easier to secure than Robin had anticipated, for so long a journey. While he had expected to arrange a conveyance for a portion of the way and hope for the best for the rest of the trip, he and John managed to find a merchant who was traveling nearly the entire way to Truro.

Robin could not help but feel that Providence was being just a bit too kind.

As they began the walk back to the cave, so used to being out in drizzle by now that they barely noticed it, John glanced over at him. "Sorry."

Nodding tersely, Robin continued to watch the path ahead.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes more, Robin's irritation growing by the second. He was not losing her permanently; and of all people, he had no right to complain about the distance that would be between them, after how far he had traveled. But, the timing could have been better. They finally had a chance to be together again, and she was leaving as soon as it began.

Oh, what was he thinking; there could not be a better time. There could never be a good time for it.

Just as Robin was beginning to curse whatever stroke of fate was behind the situation, John noted, "It does get better."

Tempted to come to a stop, Robin knew it was better to keep going; the movement gave them something to consider other than what they were discussing. Not that he could think of much to say to that; he was upset over Marian leaving for a time, but John had watched Alice ride away permanently-- with another man, and with their son. Finally, Robin replied, "I hope you're right." The statement was actually meant more for his companion than himself, and John seemed to understand that.

"I hope so, too," the big man said quietly.

The two were silent the rest of the way back, but at least with that common understanding, it was no longer a tense silence.

The same could not be said when they returned to the current camp, in the cave. Upon arriving, John shed his long coat and Robin his hooded shirt, leaving the clothes to dry by the fire as they joined the others. Edward was laying on the makeshift pallet that had been arranged for him, apparently asleep. Allan and Will were sitting somewhat near one another, although they were not conversing; Will was sharpening one of his axes while Allan watched, his sword laying nearby, apparently having been cleaned. Djaq was whittling arrow shafts, and Marian was helping Much sort things that had been hastily shoved into packs at the last camp. Still, despite the seeming normalcy of the scene, the atmosphere was not an easy one.

Noticing their arrival, Marian got to her feet and came over. "Any luck?"

Still fighting his aversion to the entire situation, Robin replied, "More than we expected. You leave at dawn, and the merchant who's taking you-- he's called Brian-- is traveling almost the entire distance. So, you will only need to find a short ride to Sir Godfrey's manor when Brian reaches his destination."

She appeared stunned at that, before giving him a grateful smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "That's wonderful news, thank you."

His own eyes dropped as he nodded, unable to maintain contact with hers. He could not be happy about this, even if the result was better than they had hoped for.

"Will we be able to retrieve our belongings?" Edward asked, surprising everyone, since no one had noticed that he was awake.

Robin knew neither of them would like his answer. "I doubt it," he said, as kindly as possible. "They will be expecting that."

Frowning, Marian argued, "If you manage to sneak in and out of the castle as much as you do, surely a house should not be such a challenge. It's not as though we want to pack up all the furniture; just some clothes, and a few small possessions."

"We would be walking into a trap, and not even a clever one," he informed her, in his opinion an unnecessary thing to point out. "It's too dangerous."

"Robin," she ground out irritably. Then, she took a step closer, leaning her head in so they could have a brief exchange in confidence. When he did the same, she quietly said, "My mother's jewelry box."

As he met her gaze, his stomach sank; he knew he could not say no. Years ago, she had told him about it, how it held not only trinkets, but also letters Kate had written Edward, and a few other sentimental pieces. Edward treasured it as the only thing he had left of his wife; Marian treasured it as the only connection she had with a mother she did not remember. With a quick look at her father, Robin finally gave her a single nod. "Very well. I'll see what I can do."


	4. Chapter 4

They waited until after dark; luck was with them insofar as the night went, since clouds still covered what little moonlight there was. Robin had not wanted Marian to come along, as she had already needed to have her stitches fixed once that day, but there was no talking her out of it. And, it did make sense for her to be present, so that if they had an opportunity to collect more than only the box, she would be able to select those things. Much and Will remained nearby to come to the rescue if needed, but far enough back that, if anything went desperately wrong, they could go get help from the outlaws who had stayed with Edward.

Robin was growing more concerned by the minute that help would prove to be necessary. Knighton was crawling with the sheriff's and Gisborne's men; fortunately, the soldiers were conspicuous enough that he doubted they would run into any by accident, yet their sheer numbers were going to make it difficult to get anywhere without being spotted. They naturally figured that they would have a better chance of getting in the back, so they had come up through the woods that way, stopping to survey the village as they went. It should have been no surprise to discover that the outlaws were not the only ones who had recognized the tactical advantage, but it was still frustrating to Robin when they found several guards posted along the treeline.

"We can take them," Marian hissed in his ear. "There are only eight."

"Yes, we can take them, but not without alerting the other dozen," he replied in an equally low tone. "We stand a better chance coming up through the village."

Creeping back through the forest and down below Knighton again was a simple matter, but moving through the village was much more complicated. Robin and Marian waited near one of the cottages until a patrol had passed, and then, crouched down to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, darted over to the lean-to attached to the back of the cottage, ducking behind a small pile of crates just as the guardsman walked around behind the dwelling. Once he had finished his circuit and they were alone once more, they hurried to the next cottage, and made it to one more beyond that before the patrol circled the houses again. Two more such rushed movements brought them to the edge of the village, and the most challenging problem yet: getting to the manor.

Four armed men were positioned along the front of Knighton Hall, spaced out so as to cover the area, but not widely enough to allow for any evasion. When entering the manor by the second floor, Robin had always climbed up the back, by Marian's chamber; he had never had occasion to do so from the front before. Considering the problem, he peered around the corner of the cottage where they were currently hiding. Leaning back, he whispered to Marian, "We can go around behind the planting sheds, and come up behind the stables. It does not look like there are many, if any patrols over there."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "If you had given me the chance, I would have told you that."

He realized that she probably knew every way to sneak in and out of the house, after nearly four years spent as the Night Watchman, although he would have appreciated that she point it out in a less critical fashion. "Do you have any specific suggestions, then?"

"Actually, I do," she hissed. When both his eyebrows went up to indicate that she should share her idea, she did: "Follow me."

It had taken Robin some getting used to when he first had to follow orders in the Holy Land. Being orphaned at the age of eight and growing up as an influential lord had not instilled much in the way of humility in him. Thornton tried, and Edward made an effort, too; and between them, Robin at least picked up some proper manners, likely helped along by an innate sense of respect. He did learn to take commands on Crusade, but he soon rose to a position of leadership, himself, which left him answerable to no one but the king. Since being left behind by the king's army, he had once again gotten used to being the one in charge. Following the lead of another did not come naturally to him.

And yet, he found that he had no trouble falling into step behind Marian as she hurried behind the potting shed, staying as low as they could in the hopes of not being spotted. That was not to say that he could see himself surrendering the gang to her, he acknowledged, as he flattened himself against the back of an outbuilding and inched along the wall beside her. But, watching as she ran to another shed in such a smooth, silent fashion, he reflected on how utterly competent she was in situations like these. Coming to a halt quietly behind her and edging around the structure, he reflected not for the first time about how much Marian stood out amongst the women of the nobility. Most had at least rudimentary knowledge of how to wield a sword or a bow, and there were a few who were very clever and not afraid to hide it, and a few who at least attempted to be clever; but, not one of them would be found lurking about in the middle of the night, especially not with skill that spoke of having performed the action many times before. Falling into step as they hurried to the grain storage building, he grinned as he thought how most noblewomen would respond to even the suggestion of acting as the Night Watchman. Marian had not only been amenable to the concept, she had invented it, if not the name that accompanied it.

Emerging around the corner of that building, he thought once more how wonderful she had been outside of Clun that day. If facing off against a group of guards in order to deliver a wagon of food to a starving village was wonderful, what she did in that mask and cloak was magnificent. They were about to embark on the most dangerous part of the excursion thus far, getting into the manor, which would not be easily accomplished with the guards outside-- and worse, if there were many men inside.

And that was why Robin hated that Marian was so good at adventurous tasks. Those other noblewomen were safe in their beds right now, whereas she could very easily be hauled back to the Nottingham dungeons at any moment, facing the noose this time instead of the block. It was possible that she had already aggravated her wound once again with all of this rushing about, perhaps not just the stitches in her skin, but the ones within her body, as well. Of all the memories he wished he could forget, having Marian's blood soaking into his hands as he tried in vain to help Djaq repair the damage within her was near the top of the list.

But, he could not think on that, because it was distracting him at a time when he very much needed to concentrate-- not just for his safety, but for hers, as well. They both peered over at the stables, before leaning back to quickly converse. "It looks clear," Marian murmured.

Robin gave her a nod. "Let's just hope nobody's watching the horses."

Almost silently, they hastened across the exposed patch of ground between the grain shed and the stables, and ducked through the doorway on the side of the stables away from the manor entrance. Fortunately, the horses were unguarded, and after releasing a couple of the animals to get the sheriff's men away from the front of the house, the pair rushed through the front door. They had weapons in hand, prepared for a fight, but the low sound of voices from the kitchen indicated where the men lucky enough to be stationed inside had gone; after exchanging an amused glance, Robin and Marian crept up the stairs.

He had been concerned that, as some of the guards were clearly picking through the kitchen, one or more might be seeing what they could pocket from the bedchambers. However, they were once again fortunate enough to avoid detection, and in the faint light of a lantern which had been left burning in the corridor, Marian quickly retrieved the jewelry box and stowed it in one of the packs they had brought along. Then, they quickly grabbed as many other things as they could-- mostly clothes, but some other sentimental or practical objects, as well,-- and when the packs were both full, Robin peeked out the back window in Marian's chamber. The guards behind the house had not moved, so he decided to make them do so.

"Get ready," he said, slinging his bow off of his back and retrieving a pair of arrows from his quiver.

Marian tossed one of the packs onto her back, and handed him the other, which he quickly donned. Standing to the left of her window, he aimed toward the blade on a plough, which he had noticed earlier behind one of the outbuildings. The person in charge of its care needed to be far more diligent, but as it was proving to be a boon for the lady of the estate, Robin figured it all worked out in the end. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she confirmed.

Letting the arrows fly, there was a satisfying clanging noise which, as he had intended, got every guard stationed in the area running toward the sound. "Let's go!" he hissed, hopping out of the window and onto the ledge. Marian followed, as comfortable as he with climbing about the framework outside her home, and more used to doing so whilst carrying provisions. Grinning at her, half in admiration and half from enjoyment of the adventure, Robin was about to put his bow onto his back so that he could swing onto the metal bar below and get to the ground, when they heard the guards running in their direction.

Quickly, he moved back, Marian already doing the same, and both of them taking cover in the shadows under the eaves.

"They must be in the house!" one of the men called. "Bert, Perry, around to the front. Jarvis, Art, to the other side. The rest of you, follow me." With that, the apparent leader and three other men rushed through the back entryway, passing absurdly close to the feet of the people they were pursuing. Once they were all inside, the door shutting behind the last, Robin dropped to the ground, Marian landing right next to him. When he glanced at her to make sure she was with him, she slid her hand into his and held on as they made their escape.

For a moment, Robin was perfectly happy.


	5. Chapter 5

Marian could not sleep. Part of it was the excitement of the successful adventure, but another part was that she had no idea when she might return. As long as Prince John was running Nottingham, she and her father were not safe. And, she could not endanger him simply because she and Robin had chosen now to rekindle their romance. They had been apart for nearly six years; they could wait awhile longer.

Or, so she told herself. However, the reluctance she felt at that was only slightly less than what she felt when she steeled herself to marry Guy. She would very much appreciate if she did not have to be strong about things someday, and just have an opportunity to enjoy her life. It felt like ages since that had been the case.

It had been nearly six years, as it happened. Considering she was not quite twenty-two, that was a fairly significant portion of her life. Although, she amended, she had not been all that very strong at the outset. Still, that was what had taught her to buck up and deal with what came her way. She had become so ill, and while the reason behind it was not her fault, the actions which resulted in it were. Never again could she allow that to happen, and if that meant marrying Guy, so be it. If it meant moving to Cornwall, very well. She would survive, and even better, would find some way to thrive.

It would be so much easier to thrive here, even in the forest, with a cause she believed in, and whatever this was turning into with Robin, to work towards.

She turned again, trying to get comfortable. Well, she would mostly thrive. Robin's gang might be used to sleeping on the ground, but she was not; and most of the furs and blankets had been arranged for her father, so her makeshift bed was even less comfortable than it otherwise might have been.

"Still awake?" Robin's voice, from where he was lying on the other side of the fire, was quiet enough that he would not disturb anyone who was sleeping. Since she was not among those lucky few, she rolled so that she could see him.

"Yes."

He got to his feet and gestured with his head for her to follow him over to the cave entrance. Wrapping her blanket around her shoulders, she went over to join him, and smiled when he took her hand before walking a couple of yards from the cave. Her other hand kept hold on the blanket, glad for the protection from the air, which was becoming chilly.

That reminded her of something she had been considering lately, as fall approached. "Where will you and the others go when it gets cold?" she asked abruptly, as they came to a stop by some large rocks.

Clearly, he had not been expecting that question. "Maybe here. Or, there are other caves and such in the forest."

Glancing doubtfully back at where the others still rested, she remarked, "That will not be good shelter. It's too damp."

"It is more than some people have," he pointed out quietly. Giving her hand a squeeze as he eased onto one of the rocks, he peered at her. "Why the sudden concern?"

Marian bit her lip. "Because... I thought I would be here. I thought I could help."

His voice was close to teasing, but was still slightly troubled when he said, "I thought you were going to accept your lot in life."

Taken aback, Marian hesitated. While she had confessed her plans to Djaq, she found that she could not quite admit them to Robin. Partially, it was retribution. She was still upset that he had walked out on that conversation at Knighton the day before her wedding, giving up on her; telling him that she had hoped to get out of the marriage was a satisfaction she had not forgiven Robin enough to grant just yet. Mostly, it was because that might give him false hopes about how this could turn out. For that matter, it might give her some. "My lot in life would never have included allowing you and the others to freeze, or starve."

The hint of jealousy dropped away, and his smile was real when he replied, "I am glad to hear that."

She smiled back, pleased that the conversation was not turning into an argument. Normally, she would not mind all that much, but this was the last time they would be together for an unknown amount of time, and she wanted to spend it well. Still holding his hand, she dropped down on the rock beside his. A silence descended, albeit not an uncomfortable one, and it was several minutes before Robin admitted, "There is so much I want to say to you right now, yet I cannot think of how to put any of it."

"I am in a similar way," she said softly. "We do not have to talk."

His smile now was sadder, but he nodded in agreement. The rock he was sitting on had barely enough room for them both, if they were very close together. So, she moved over to join him on it, and leaned against his shoulder when his arm went around her, and they sat together. Eventually, the horizon began to lighten; by then, she had been sitting on Robin's lap for some time, and his arms tightened around her just a bit when the sun came into view.

Her voice a bit scratchy from not having been used in awhile, Marian said, "I should go wake Father."

"You should," Robin agreed.

At first, neither one of them moved. Then, he suddenly pulled her into a tighter embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, their faces buried in one another's shoulders.

 _I do not want to go,_ Marian wanted to say. Instead, she murmured into his neck, "I will be back as soon as I can."

"I will be here, or somewhere in Sherwood," Robin murmured back, with a short laugh that ruffled the hair behind her ear. If it sounded suspiciously like, _Don't go,_ Marian doubted she was imagining it.

"You have much to keep you busy," she commented.

"True." He hesitated. "I would not mind being busier."

Marian leaned back to see his face. She started to speak, but found she could not continue the banter, and kissed him, instead. Once, she had the thought again to go wake her father, but she could not bring herself to stop what she was doing. That was, until the sound of a wagon clattering down the road reached her.

"I need to get Father ready."

He nodded. "I should greet Brian."

She got to her feet, and he did as well, but he held onto her hand as she started to move away from him. Tugging her back for a quick hug, as he let go, he bent down so his mouth was next to her ear.

"I love you." Then, with a sweet kiss to her cheek, he turned and went to cross the river.

Marian stared after him for a moment, finally realizing that her mouth was hanging open a little. Snapping it shut, she turned and began walking toward the cave. However, her mind could not have been further from where she was physically moving; her thoughts remained back by those rocks, still hearing Robin's voice, still feeling his breath warm on her skin.

Not once had he ever said that before. Even when they were courting, and then betrothed, he had been so busy showering her with absurd compliments, ridiculous sentiments, and flowery poems, that he had almost never said anything that true. Once or twice, he had let something slip, but not about how he felt. She had suspected, of course; but then, it was difficult to tell, when he was always so frivolous, or constantly on the move. And, there was a difference between caring for someone, and loving them.

Robin was many things, but careless with saying such words was definitely not among them. He loved her.

When Marian walked into the cave, she was beaming.

She kept going back to that as she, Will, and Much gathered the things she and Robin had retrieved from Knighton. She was still thinking of it as she followed John, who was carrying her father, and Djaq outside. But, she did not need to reflect back to it when they neared the wagon, because it was plain on Robin's face as she looked over at him. Suddenly struck by an uncertainty as to how to handle it, Marian merely smiled, and was glad when he helped get them loaded up without saying anything more.

However, there was not much to load, and introducing her and Edward to the merchant did not take long, so it was only a matter of minutes before they were ready to leave. To all three of them, Robin said, "We got a rumor started that you were going to use the back roads to get away, so the Great North Road should be clear going for you. And, if not,--" he turned and took a bow and quiver that Much was handing to him, and set it next to Edward while glancing at Marian,-- "there are also a couple of swords, wrapped in that blanket."

"Thank you," said Edward, to the group at large. The statement was a strange combination of stiff reluctance and sincerity, and Marian did not look forward to the first leg of their journey. Perhaps, the first several legs of it.

Brian headed toward the seat at the front of the wagon, and after some almost shy goodbyes, the gang started back toward the cave-- except for Robin, who offered a hand to help Marian up. Apparently, he also had no idea what to say now, which was just as well; she did not want an emotional farewell.

She did not want a silent farewell, either. Instead of accepting his hand, she took his face and gently pulled him down for a kiss, which she tried to make express everything she could not say. She was vaguely conscious of her father sitting a few feet away, but could not care less right then. When she ended it, she whispered, "I love you, too."

Resting his forehead against hers, his cheeks still in her palms, he said, "Take care of yourself, Marian."

"You do the same."

He let out a small sigh, and she kissed him quickly once more. "I need to go."

Stepping back, he replied, "I know."

This time, she did use his proffered hand to climb up beside her father (who was studiously staring at the side of the wagon across from himself), and Robin gave the signal for Brian to get the horses in motion. She could not look away from Robin as they began their trek, and neither did he seem inclined to move. Then, the wagon went around a bend in the road, and she lost sight of him.

"What was all that?" Edward asked, after a few uncomfortable moments.

Suppressing a groan, Marian answered, "Exactly what it looked like."

"He's an outlaw, Marian."

Shooting him a disbelieving look, she reminded him, "As are we."

"He is far too reckless."

"Being cautious has not exactly served us well," she shot back.

They eyed one another, before Edward said quietly, "He saved your life, and mine."

"And many other lives, besides," she added.

The corners of his mouth turned up. "I admit to being glad you are here, instead of back there. I was not so certain that would be the case."

Marian's frustration melted away, and she moved over to sit beside him. Patting his hand, she said, "As long as you need me, I will be here."

She did not see the frown that sentiment brought to his face.

* * *

With the rain having passed, the outlaws set out to find a new camp. No one said much, as there was little they could think of to say; and besides, they were all tired from being up at dawn two days in a row. Once they were situated, they retrieved some supplies from their stores and set out to do deliveries. John and Allan headed toward Clun, Much and Will took Nottingham, and Djaq went with Robin to Nettlestone.

"I like her," Djaq declared, as she strode alongside him.

Surprised both at the unexpected conversation, as well as the statement, Robin found himself smiling despite his fairly all-encompassing disappointment. "I like her, too."

Djaq paused, and then admitted, "I did not think I would. She has been too ready to defend Gisborne. But, she runs much deeper than she seems."

Listening carefully to her analysis, he laughed at her final observation. "Yes, she does. Her ability to hide it serves her well."

"Perhaps, most of the time. But it can likewise work against her."

Robin's eyebrow went up as he glanced at her. "It sounds as if you know something."

The look she gave him bespoke exactly how slim his chances were of learning anything from her. "I know that she is not the only one with that particular ability." Turning her attention back to the road ahead of her signaled the end of the exchange.

Robin got the message, and was not certain he liked it. If whatever Marian had neglected to tell him-- and yet, had shared with Djaq,-- was serious, he had no doubt but that Djaq would let him know. She was not the type to be sworn to secrecy on principle, if there was not a good reason behind it. But, there was still _something_ she knew about Marian which he did not, and the thought nagged at him.

Puzzling it over took his mind off of his discontentment, which may or may not have been Djaq's goal in bringing the whole thing up. Either way, Robin was grateful for it, and was somewhat improved as they neared the camp after having made their deliveries.

That was, until Will and Much came tearing up. "We have to go back to Nottingham," Will announced, an unusual amount of worry on his face.

"Why? What's happened?" Robin demanded.

Out of breath, Much nonetheless cut in. "They've got Marian."

" _What?_ " That was impossible; he and John had planted the rumor of the supposed route very carefully. And Marian could handle it if a couple of guards happened to have been left along the main road. Unless-- had she been injured? Had she aggravated her wound?

"The sheriff's announcing that they've caught the Night Watchman," Will explained. "He hasn't announced her identity yet, but I think he's saving it for the execution-- which is this sundown."

Robin peered at the sky, trying to think clearly. They had a few hours before then, but a plan was in order, after the relative ease with which the gang had rescued her the day before. Vaizey would be prepared for them this time. Then again, what if he intended to carry out the execution early, as he had done with Allan's brother?

Hoping to come up with something along the way, Robin gestured for the others to follow. "Come on." They were only a few yards down the road when Allan and John came into view.

"What's going on?" Allan asked, falling into step with the rest of them.

Looking from him to John, Robin borrowed a phrase from the bigger man. "We go to Nottingham."


	6. Chapter 6

A crowd was already beginning to gather when the gang reached the west gate. That worked well, since it was easier to sneak into Nottingham Town. However, the guards were checking everyone who went through the castle gates, and there were extra men stationed around the top of the castle walls, so the outlaws ducked behind a nearby shop to figure out a plan.

Robin was used to schooling his brain to work through a problem at times when most people would be panicking. It was something he had to know how to do when harvests came in well under what was needed to feed his village, or when a disease was sweeping through the area and threatening his peasants; and the ability had saved his life and many others in the Holy Land. Since taking to the forest, it had served the outlaws well, too; however, he was finding that it failed him every so often, and he was not certain why that was. Perhaps, he had simply relied on it too much over the years, and there was only so much he could ignore. Or, perhaps, he was losing the distance that came of being a lord and a commander, coming to think of the small group of people around him as something closer to family, thereby making him more emotionally invested. That would very likely be the case where Marian was concerned.

Whatever the cause, he needed to think clearly, and ignore the voice in the back of his head which was demanding to know how this had happened. That was not what was important now. After they saved Marian and were back at camp, _then_ , he could try to sort the rest out.

Studying the expectant faces regarding him, he pulled himself together. "Right. We need to get in, and we also need to make sure we can get back out after we rescue Marian. They're watching the gates too closely, so the kitchens are our best bet."

"That's awfully close to the dungeons," Much remarked unhappily. "And the sheriff already knows we use the kitchens. It'll be a short trip, if we get caught."

"Got a better idea?" Allan retorted.

Much scowled at him, which was answer enough.

Robin held up a hand. "More areas down there give us a better chance of escaping; we can lose them easier in that maze than in the open, if it comes to that." He surveyed the gang, and other than Much's pout, saw only agreement. None of them were particularly pleased at the plan, but without another option, they would follow it.

They set out to rejoin the crowds, making their way to the east side of the castle wall. Guards were posted near the sewer and the handy window where kitchen scraps were dumped; there were only two of them, and they were easily handled. John took care of the first, and as Robin knocked the second out cold, he wondered to himself how much longer it would be before they climbed through and found an entire company of armed men waiting for them. Kitchens were usually seen as inferior, places where lords would not deign to tread, which was what had made this so perfect. However, Vaizey was craftier than that, and as he had indeed been aware of their entering there once before, Robin knew it would be a mistake not to be cautious.

Today was not the day that the sheriff acted on that knowledge, fortunately. Cloaks drawn tightly around them, the gang crept through the warren of rooms beneath the castle, emerging from a doorway behind the tree in the courtyard. No one noticed them as they blended in with the assembly that had turned out to witness the execution of the famed Night Watchman.

Or, that turned out to try to prevent it. " _Save the Night Watchman!_ " a woman shrieked from near the stairs, and several other voices chimed in. A scuffle broke out as sheriff's men moved in to subdue the protesters, with more people joining in the fray.

Bemused, the outlaws exchanged glances. "This might be easier than I thought," Robin murmured. If the protest continued to grow, that should distract the guards enough to carry out the rescue and make a clean getaway. Pulling his hood further around his face and trying to keep his bow and quiver hidden under his cloak, he gestured for the lads to follow and moved closer to the gallows.

From their new position, they could see the castle entrance, and readied themselves when the sheriff appeared; the crowd stilled, as well. Holding up his hands for attention, Vaizey called, "People of Nottingham! Too long has a criminal menace moved amongst you, disguising himself as a hero. But, in fact, this famed 'Night Watchman' is nothing more than a common thief; and, moreover, is a murderer, who helped Robin Hood's filthy hoarde kill dozens of men hired to bring them to justice!"

A roar of denial rose from the crowd, but scatted among the protests were a few sorrowful wails, and cries of, "Hang the murderer!" Robin cringed, dropping his eyes as he tried not to remember how quickly he had felled those woodsmen and soldiers. He had been acting on instinct, refusing to permit them to find Marian's body inside the cave, knowing there was no escape either way; but he should have thought. He should have found another way, a way that did not involve making any more widows and orphans than Nottingham already had. While a voice in the back of his mind pointed out that he was beyond coherence then, enveloped in grief, he silenced it.

The situation was on him. His men had been acting to save themselves, but once he had gone on an all-out attack, they followed suit. Marian had nothing to do with it whatsoever, not even aware that it had happened; and now, Vaizey was trying to pin it on her, turning the pain of the mourners against her. Robin mentally added it to the list of things he would one day pay the sheriff back for.

Vaizey held up his hands again. "I thought about hanging this villain two hours ago, since I am certain that Robin Hood wishes to help him escape, and knew Hood would suspect an hour's advance after the last time I hanged some of his little friends. However, I could not spare you all the sight of this dastardly devil dangling from a noose!" Some cheers rang out, and Robin sighed. While the disapproving majority was good to see, he wondered if any of the excited faces had ever been aided by Marian's graciousness. He would understand if a man trying to feed his starving family sold him or one of the lads out to the sheriff for coins; that was not something Robin would begrudge, disappointed though he may be. However, he would hope that such a person would at least demonstrate some remorse.

"So!" the sheriff called. "Without further ado, I give you... the Night Watchman. Guards!" He clapped and stepped aside, making room for a small procession to pass.

From their vantage point, the gang could not see the dungeon door open into the stone corridor above them, but they could hear it, as well as the footsteps making their way over to the castle steps. As surreptitiously as possible, Robin drew three arrows, nocking the first and preparing to raise, aim, and fire as soon as he was able. Around him, he could sense the others tensing for action, as well. The sense grew stronger as the first guard came into view at the top of the stairs, and Robin was about to lift his bow when the prisoner appeared-- but, instead, Robin froze at the sight.

They all did.

"What on earth is going on?" Much wondered, earning shushes from the others.

"Where is Marian?" Djaq asked softly.

Robin's eyes narrowed as his gaze swung from the masked figure to the chipper sheriff. "What are you up to, Vaizey?" he muttered.

That was _not_ the Night Watchman; it was not Marian. While the outfit was correct, it was on a man.

Allan grinned, relaxing. "Well, that's a relief, ain't it?"

"Maybe." Robin shot him an irritated look, although most of it was directed at the situation instead of his friend. "We do not know who that is. It could be a villager, or an unlucky castle servant."

The condemned man and his circle of guards was moving slowly, whether due to the crowd or for dramatic effect was unclear. They were only about halfway to the gallows, but would be at their destination soon enough. Robin racked his brain for a plan, coming up with nothing that would not get them led to the noose, as well.

Djaq beat him to an idea. Sidling up behind a group of the earlier protesters, she yelled, "Save the Night Watchman!"

The rallying cry was more effective than a flame to Greek fire, and the cluster of people was almost instantaneously a mob, grabbing at the guards and the prisoner. As Djaq rejoined the others, Robin grinned at her approvingly, to which she smiled smugly back.

Just as she had intended, someone got hold of the prisoner's mask, yanking it off before being pulled away, themselves. It was not a face Robin recognized, but Allan apparently did. "Hang on; that's David of Ollerton!"

"Who's David of Ollerton?" asked Will, at the same time John exclaimed, "Are you sure?"

As Allan took another look and nodded firmly, just before a guard slapped the mask back in place, Much repeated Will's question. "David of Ollerton-- the Butcher of Bonham Street," John answered.

"Killed his wife, cooked her up, and fed her to their neighbors for Sunday dinner," Allan informed them.

Much's face wrinkled in horror. "Ugh, that is... _beyond_ revolting!"

Djaq's expression was subtler, but no less disturbed. "What reason did he give for doing such a thing?"

"There _is_ no reason for that," Will muttered.

With a shrug, Allan replied, "He said she forgot that he didn't like turnips one too many times, and if she liked 'em so much, she could share a plate with them."

"He killed her over turnips?" Much exclaimed. "Is he mad?"

Allan shook his head. "No, that's the worst part. He's not mad at all. Cold as stone, a creepy bugger, but not mad."

While John was clearly as bothered as the rest of them, he was also apparently noticing the same thing that Robin was: they were making too much noise. "People have been killed over less-- such as being too loud."

They all took the big man's hint.

The story was ringing a bell with Robin, and pondering it, he came up with a tidbit of information. "I thought he was to be hanged last week."

"He was. Supposed to be, that is," Allan amended. "But, that is definitely him, so I'd say it's a safe bet somebody took his place, if they dangled anybody."

Robin frowned. "I'm afraid to ask why, since there had to be a reason, and Vaizey was likely behind it." Turning away from the spectacle to face the gang, he said grimly, "He may have escaped his punishment before, but he's receiving it now. Let's go home."

In another circumstance, most or all of them might have wanted to try to save the prisoner. Not one of them was so inclined this time, however, and they were somber as they made their way out of Nottingham and back into the forest.

Somber... yet relieved, at least in Robin's case, though he doubted he was alone.

Marian was still safe.

* * *

Robin's relief was short-lived, although his active concern shifted from Marian to the peasantry of the shire. While he never stopped wondering, in the back of his mind, whether or not she was well, there was a more immediate concern to deal with at home.

The people were starting to give up.

It was not a very obvious thing, at first. The villagers were a little quieter in the days following the execution, but that was not unexpected. What was unusual was that they were still subdued nearly a month later. The hopeful relief that had shown on their faces upon receiving the outlaws' donations had morphed into a vague sadness, something barely perceptible, yet there. Robin was wondering if he was imagining it, until Will mentioned it to him, too.

In fact, they were all noticing the situation, and agreed to see what they could learn about the cause behind it.

One candid woman from Clun, a weaver called Anna, said what the other villagers seemed hesitant to voice. "It's not the same without the Night Watchman," she told Little John. "We've heard the rumors that it wasn't him the sheriff hanged, but he hasn't been round, has he?"

John frowned. "Are we not bringing enough?"

"That's not it," she replied. "I mean, yeah, it's easier when you've both been by; we don't have to make things stretch so much. But, he's been coming round for years. Whether or not that was him on the gallows, it's stopped him." With a resigned shrug, she turned and went back into her cottage, leaving John to piece the rest together.

"The Night Watchman gave them hope," he explained to the others that evening. "We continue it, but she started it. Now that she's gone, so's their reason for hoping in the first place."

"So, what is it we're doing, then?" demanded Allan, obviously affronted. "Not being funny, but that's insulting."

Staring into the flames of the campfire, Robin's hands were folded, absently rubbing his finger over his chin as he thought over the problem. While part of him agreed with Allan, that the gang was helping enough, he understood what Little John was saying. This was not a logical situation, it was an emotional one-- and that was no less serious than something he could tactically address. They might fill the peasants' bellies, but if their spirits were damaged, the outlaws were still fighting a losing battle.

"We are doing our part," Robin told him. "But, they need someone to do the Night Watchman's part, as well." An idea was starting to formulate in his brain, and Much apparently recognized the signs.

"You have that look again," Much said suspiciously.

Robin grinned at him. "We've been doing well with our heists lately... there is enough in the stores for some extra deliveries."

"Wait-- you want to be Robin Hood _and_ the Night Watchman?" Allan exclaimed.

Robin merely shrugged, the solution obvious in his mind.

"It would make sense," agreed Djaq. "We already collect most of the things the Night Watchman gives out."

From where he was sitting off to the side, Will said, "I think I know who made Marian's mask."

"Lads, it's time the Night Watchman joined our gang," Robin laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

It took several days to get everything sorted. Will had been right about the leathersmith in Clun, who was more than willing to make a new mask and not mention the fact to anyone. They also tried to determine the patterns that Marian had used in her deliveries, which occasionally crossed with theirs, but were different enough that it took some discreet asking around to work out. Soon enough, however, everything was set.

The first group of deliveries went very well, and Robin made sure to be "accidentally" spotted by a couple of villagers. By his next outing three nights later, there was already a great deal of chatter amongst the peasants about the Night Watchman still being around. Within a few weeks, the people seemed convinced that the Night Watchman had never left nor been executed-- the latter conclusion aided by the hanged man's true identity being revealed by Allan at the Trip. There were some whispers here and there by those who could have sworn that the Night Watchman was a woman; Robin had always suspected that it bothered Marian to be referred to in masculine terms, and thought that she would be pleased to hear those remarks. However, the general consensus was that the ruse was working.

The Night Watchman was back.

And the hero's infamy was growing; Robin was surprised to hear of deliveries he had not made, as well as arguments being made in favor of the Night Watchman indeed being female-- leading to a request for brutal honesty from the gang regarding his costume, the responses to which fortunately put his mind at ease,-- but those were good signs. Those who were spreading any of the tales were excited by them, comforted that they were not merely surviving on the whim of one outlawed noble with a personal grudge against the sheriff. That was exactly what Robin had been aiming for, so the goal was being achieved.

Initially, the gang pestered Robin over the fact that he was receiving no credit for his actions. If he were to let himself admit it, that was somewhat tedious. Being Robin Hood was difficult enough without adding the responsibility of an entirely separate bandit identity, and some recognition of his efforts would not go unappreciated. Yet, he would never say as much aloud, and he soon found that not speaking of it helped him not dwell on the situation. Thinking of Marian and how proud she was of her alter-ego made it even easier to take. And the odd, hushed, "Bless you, Night Watchman!" that followed him as he disappeared back into the night certainly buoyed his mood, as well.

The Sheriff of Nottingham was taking note of what was going on, although the gang did not discover this fact until the sixth week that Robin was pulling double-duty. One night, when he was about to leave the forest and sneak into Treeton, a brief movement down the road caught his eye. Leaning back into the shadows of Sherwood, he waited and watched. Soon, he began to notice more stirrings here and there; soldiers were stationed all over, and better concealed than they had been at Knighton when he and Marian had pulled their heist of sorts.

Robin should not have been surprised that Vaizey was learning, but somehow, he was not expecting it.

Inching back into the trees, Robin headed toward camp. He hoped the villagers would not be overly hurt by the lack of a delivery that night, but he would make it up to them as soon as possible.

* * *

Apparently, that was even sooner than he realized. The gang was in Nottingham the next day, making their usual deliveries, when Robin overheard a snippet of conversation which stopped him short.

"And there was a plum for everyone, too," one woman was telling another.

"Plums? From the Night Watchman?" her friend asked. "That's a new one."

The first woman laughed. "You won't find a soul in Wadlow complaining. Those were tasty."

Now that he was actually looking at the two instead of just scanning the crowd, Robin recognized them; one was, indeed, a resident of the mentioned village, the other from Farthing. After ensuring that they would not be observed, he ducked over. "Did you say the Night Watchman was at Wadlow last night?"

"Robin!" Ella, the woman from Wadlow, exclaimed. She glanced around frantically, but saw that they were safe for the moment. Lowering her voice, she smiled and nodded. "He-- she-- whatever, wasn't supposed to be by 'till next Tuesday. So, that was a nice surprise."

"And you're certain it was the Night Watchman, and not another donor?"

She rolled her eyes in good humor. "Don't you dare try to take credit for that, Robin Hood. For one thing, four people spotted the Night Watchman. And also, you lot never bring us nice fruit like that."

It was beginning to become apparent to Robin that he was not the only person who had donned the mask, but he could hardly let on. Instead, he merely replied, "Well, when we find some good fruit, I'll make sure you are the first to know." The women gave the small laugh he was aiming for, and he went on his way.

The mystery deepened when Djaq reported that the sheriff was in an uproar. The orchard just outside of Bonchurch, which for now was crown property from which he benefitted, had been raided. Most of the crop was gone, and Vaizey was swearing death to whoever was behind the theft. Of course, he was laying the possibility of blame on the outlaws, but apparently he was not hanging all suspicion on them.

Throwing ideas around as they left Nottingham, the gang all agreed that there was someone, most likely a woman, also acting as the Night Watchman. But, who? And why, if everyone else thought nothing was wrong with the original one?

"We have two clues here," Robin announced. "Well, three, if we accept that the impostor is a woman, although that could just be witnesses remembering Marian and seeing what they expect to see."

Djaq held up a hand before he could continue. "Just a moment. What gives you the right to call this person an impostor? You are not the real Night Watchman, nor were you given permission to take on the role."

Robin started to retort, until he realized there really was no retort. "Fair enough," he finally acknowledged on a laugh. "So, let's not even worry about whether the other Night Watchman is male or female. The two things we know for sure is that they are not following Marian's pattern, as we are; and they are sitting on a large harvest of plums and probably other fruit."

"The fruit came from Bonchurch," Will said. "We could ask around there, see if anyone knows anything. They wouldn't talk to sheriff's men, but they might talk to us."

"And if not to all of us, I bet they will talk to Lord Much," said Robin, nudging his former servant playfully.

Much smiled nervously. "Maybe. No, yes. Yes, I'm sure they'll tell me anything they know." His smile faded into a pout. "I love the orchards. Those plums are so juicy; I remember many a harvest when we were younger, eating as many as we could carry back to Locksley..." He trailed off, getting that dreamy look on his face which they all knew so well. Returning to the present, he frowned. "They were supposed to be _my_ orchards."

Slinging his arm around Much's shoulder, Robin sighed. "Someday, my friend." They all knew that was probably just wishful thinking, but nobody argued the thought.

* * *

As it happened, either nobody in Bonchurch knew what was going on, or they were unwilling to inform their former lord-- either of their former lords-- about it.

A shepherdess named Bess had noticed something that nobody else seemed to. "Somebody was in Hannah and Eve's cottage, oh, just over a fortnight back. I didn't get a good look at them, but considering they went out the back window instead of the door, I don't think they were up to any good."

Much was clearly upset at the thought. "Did they take anything? Were they carrying something they'd stolen?"

A firm shake of Bess's head laid Much's worries to rest. "No, anything Hannah and Eve didn't take with them when they left was ransacked by the sheriff's men, and anything left after the ransacking was claimed." She made the statement unapologetically, nor would any of them have expected otherwise. In such straitened times, there was no sense having useful things lying around, unused.

Puzzling over what she was telling them, Robin asked, "Have you noticed anything odd since that?"

"No, and you'd better believe I've been looking. Somebody who's hit hard times is one thing, but those drifters can be bad news. I've been keeping a sharp eye out, and so has my Frederick, but we've seen nothing else."

"All right. Thanks, Bess." Patting her gently on the arm, Robin then pressed a small coin pouch into her hand.

She began to protest, "We're doing well enough," but he interrupted, with a friendly smile and a slight nod at her heavy belly.

"Three small ones to keep warm through the winter this year, instead of just two. Congratulations, and take it."

Returning the smile, obviously pleased at the impending addition to her family, she said, "Thank you."

After she left, John asked, "Should we search the cottage?"

"No," Robin replied. "If the neighbors found nothing, a burglar wouldn't, either." With a glance at the sky, which indicated that evening was fast approaching, he said, "Let's get back to camp. I have deliveries to make tonight-- that is, if the other Night Watchman has not beaten me to it."


	8. Chapter 8

Robin crouched in the brush, counting on the night and his costume to conceal him from the view of the other masked figure, who was making their way through Locksley. At this distance and in the dim light, Robin could still not ascertain the gender of the third Night Watchman, but considering that a week had passed without the gang being able to learn anything about who it was, he was suspicious. Everyone knew by now that the Night Watchman was at least associated with the outlaws, after the escape from Locksley Manor before Marian's subverted wedding; therefore, the fact that this new person had made no move to contact him made Robin wary of their identity and motives. While it could be a good-hearted merchant, or even a particularly enterprising peasant, it could equally be a person in Vaizey's employ, lulling the villagers into a sense of trust before poisoning them, or another such vile plan.

So, as the hooded figure made its way from house to house, Robin watched. And then, when they ducked back onto the path leading to the Great North Road, he followed a safe distance behind.

The distance was not safe enough, however; they had only been walking a couple of minutes before the Night Watchman suddenly turned, drawing a sword-- and emitting a slight gasp when he or she saw another version of themselves facing them. Robin had not initially armed himself beyond a dagger in his boot when going out, but had taken to wearing a sword since learning of this Night Watchman (whom, despite Djaq's accurate correction, he still thought of as "The Impostor"). He did not dare to wear his own sword, which was easily recognized, but was nearly as comfortable with a weapon the gang had long ago stolen from the castle. It was inferior in craft and balance to the Saracen blade, but was similar to the sword with which he had spent many years training, so he drew it with ease.

Disguising his voice, he grumbled, "Who are you?"

"I ask the same of you," came the reply, in tones which indicated that the speaker also did not wish to be identified. The action worked; Robin was hard-pressed to decide if he was facing a woman or a young man.

"You are not the true Night Watchman," he stated. "Why do you pretend to be?"

The Impostor snorted. "Again, I ask the same of you."

Giving his sword a casual swing, Robin said, "This will go easier if you stop repeating yourself, and tell me what I wish to know."

With a shrug which did nothing to detract from The Impostor's obvious alertness, they replied, "You have no idea how badly this will go for you, if you threaten me."

"I know how badly it will go for _you_ ," Robin retorted. "But, I would rather we have a civil conversation."

"I have no desire to speak with you. Leave now, and you will go unharmed."

He had to give The Impostor points for boldness. Still, he was not about to debate which of them would win in a fight, since he was fairly confident as to the answer. While The Impostor clearly was not unfamiliar with how to wield a sword, their stance was unusual and not entirely strategic, and Robin doubted they had much in the way of formal training. Perhaps, they had practiced on their own and developed their own style, but it was just as possible that they were bluffing; in fact, he was willing to bet on it. "Are you working for the sheriff?" He did not expect an honest reply, but hoped the sudden question might catch his opponent off-guard.

Indeed, The Impostor hesitated, in what seemed to be surprise. "Not anymore," they finally growled, right before lunging at him.

Robin easily parried the attack, as well as two more which were made in quick succession. It was as he thought; the movements were amateurish, although they would likely repel a less experienced fighter than himself. He had knocked The Impostor back after the third attack, and as his adversary regained their footing, Robin considered the answer to his question. _Not anymore_ meant that this person had, indeed, once worked on behalf of Vaizey. "When did you work for the sheriff? Was this originally a scheme of his?" He really wanted to end this standoff without a full-out fight, because he would rather not do The Impostor an injury; and he hoped that getting the person talking would accomplish that.

"It is no business of yours what I do," The Impostor snapped. After a beat, they added, "But I do it for a man so different from the sheriff, there is no comparison." Robin wished that answer had given him any clue to even the gender of the figure opposite him, but neither the darkness of the road nor the words helped. It could be a son or daughter speaking of his or her father; it could be a woman, or even a young man, speaking of a lost lover. Evidently uncomfortable with revealing anything, even something that revealed nothing, The Impostor said, "Now, leave me be! I have another village to see to, and you are impeding my work."

With a shrug of his own, Robin replied, "If you explain what you are about, I will be more than happy to let you on your way. In fact, this could be easier, if we work together. It appears we are both after the same goal: helping those in need."

The Impostor shook their head. "I know nothing of the sort; you have told me nothing of yourself."

Exasperated, Robin nonetheless laughed at that. "I asked you first!" he exclaimed, more than a little frustrated at The Impostor's unwillingness to concede.

With a noise of annoyance, The Impostor apparently decided that they would get nowhere verbally, and flew at him once again. They were unschooled, but quick and desperate, and Robin found that he had to pay close attention to keep from being hit. Blocking a series of opportunistic blows, he finally saw an opening to go on the offensive, aiming to disarm The Impostor.

He was just about to accomplish that, when a third blade suddenly knocked his back. A shoulder to his own knocked him aside, and he hastily swung around, sword out, as he stepped into a defensive stance.

And then, he blinked.

How many Night Watchmen _were_ there?

Counting himself, three of them now faced off on the Great North Road. Counting Marian, that made four of them... unless, of course, there were even more who had yet to happen along. Robin had a brief, darkly amusing picture of an army of Night Watchmen, all fighting one another in the middle of Sherwood. As entertaining as the thought was, reality was three, razor-sharp swords ready for melee, and he would prefer to avoid that. There was some comfort to be found in a quick glance at The Impostor, who seemed to be as startled as he. "Who are _you_ , now?" he demanded of this new person, still keeping his voice disguised. Regardless of whom the others turned out to be, he would rather keep his own identity a secret.

In contrast to The Impostor, it was obvious that this Night Watchman was trained to fight, and was not inclined to respond to his query at all. Mentally cursing the cloudy night for offering both of the others the level of concealment he had personally sought earlier, Robin nonetheless found himself impressed with the newcomer already. They radiated confidence and competence, whereas he had definitely picked up uncertainty from The Impostor.

This Night Watchman also radiated annoyance. Recognizing that attitude for the danger that it was, Robin tried to reason with them. "If you are also of a charitable mind, there is no reason for the three of us to fight one another."

"We do not know that he is of a charitable mind," The Impostor muttered. "Nor am I sure that you are. For all I know, _you_ are working for the sheriff, in an effort to entrap me.

"Or maybe he is." The Impostor gestured toward the third person on the road.

Robin had kept his attention on the latest Night Watchman whilst The Impostor spoke, and was glad of it; at her suggestion that he might be a tool of the sheriff's, the silent Night Watchman's demeanor toward him became decidedly hostile. "I do not work for the sheriff!" Robin declared. "I work against him, as, I suspect, do we all."

"What's happening here?" The Impostor murmured frantically, to what was, at that moment, clearly _her_ self.

Realizing that The Impostor was at least admitting to herself that she was outmatched, Robin started to move between her and the silent Night Watchman. She was so intent on the new arrival that she did not even react to him. When he got to where he could defend her, he ordered, "Run!"

To her credit, she held her ground for a moment. However, when Robin's command caused the silent Night Watchman to move into action, she did as she was told, running south along the road. In the back of his mind, Robin noted that it likely meant she was not familiar with the forest; the knowledge may or may not prove to be a clue, but he did not have the time to ponder it, as a flurry of attacks came at him. Whereas with The Impostor, he had been holding back due to her lack of skill, it was this opponent's possession of skill which kept him from reversing their positions. It was a tense several seconds, each of which seemed to slow to hours, before he saw an opening for a riposte; his adversary managed to dodge it, but he finally had the tactical advantage.

This Night Watchman fended off his strikes, but at the expense of falling back several paces. There was a fallen log just a few steps behind them, and if Robin could only drive them back a bit further, he could have the fight.

Whether or not the silent Night Watchman was aware of that, they avoided such a fate by suddenly stepping to the side and kicking out at Robin's knee. The move was a risky one, as it could have resulted in an injury if Robin had attacked from the side the Night Watchman moved to, since it left them undefended. However, luck was on their side, as his sword thrust met empty air.

Luck was also on Robin's side; or, rather, instinct borne of surviving five years on the battlefield came to his aid. He sensed the kick a fraction of a second before it connected, stepping away as the Night Watchman's foot swooshed harmlessly by his leg.

Unfortunately, annoyance and apparently a sharp mind meant that the attacker would not simply fall back into a stance and take a moment to figure out what to do next. In the same moment that their foot reconnected with the ground, so too did their blade swing, and Robin was not quite quick enough to stop it. While he caught the opposing sword with his own, the keen edge of the Night Watchman's steel kissed his cheek before he shoved it away.

It was now evident that this was to be a fight to the death, or at least something incredibly close to it, and Robin had every intention of leaving with nothing more than the line he now had across his cheek, which was merrily seeping into the fabric at the side of his mask.

Determined to be the one to walk away, he threw everything he had into his attack. He would rather not kill his adversary, but if that became his only option, he would take it. This Night Watchman might be trained, but unlike Robin, they had evidently not been fit enough to defend the king, himself; they had obviously not faced scores of enemies bent on cutting them down if they did not cut those enemies down first. Robin had the upper hand and he used it, getting a nick in here, a shallow slice in there, all the while hoping that the Night Watchman would surrender before any real damage was done.

Instead, the fighter surprisingly left their leg unguarded for an instant. It was not a move Robin wished to make, since it would be a severely damaging blow, if not a fatal one. Instead, he decided to fall back a step; while it could put him on the defensive, it might confuse the Night Watchman enough for him to find a preferable means of attack.

Or, it could prove to be an opportunity for his opponent. The Night Watchman brought their sword up in a sudden move which Robin barely ducked away from, but which glanced the side of his jaw.

That had been too close. And unless this was a hireling of Vaizey's-- which Robin doubted, given the level of skill displayed in their fight,-- the whole thing was pointless. "Wait!" he called, stepping back and keeping his sword at the ready, but hoping to halt the battle. "Just, wait. Unless you are working against the people of Nottingham, which I doubt, I think we have much to discuss." Too late, he realized that he had forgotten to disguise his voice, and found himself counting on adrenaline from the fight to keep the Night Watchman from noticing.

It might have worked, had his opponent turned out to be anyone else. " _Robin?_ "

His heart stopped as she started to pull off her mask. "Marian?" _Oh, my God._ He had cut her. He could have killed her-- "Are you all right?"

She nodded brusquely. "I'm fine. You?"

He waved away the question. "Of course."

Then, she was in his arms. When the twinge of panic receded, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

With a short laugh against his neck, she asked, "Would you rather I was back in Cornwall?"

His arms tightened at that. "No. Absolutely not."

"Good." They held each other for another minute, before she moved back and asked, "What are you doing, anyway? And who was that you were fighting?"

Robin shook his head in bafflement. "I have no idea. As to what I'm doing... it is something of a long story. Let's go back to camp; if you have not eaten, we can get you some supper, and then we can either talk or sleep, whichever seems more appealing."

Returning his smile, Marian gave him a nod before stepping aside and taking his hand. "That sounds wonderful. And, whenever we do talk, I can explain how I came to be here."

He was very curious to know that, but following the fight, he needed to unwind; a quiet walk back to camp, Marian's fingers laced through his, would be an excellent way to accomplish that. "Sounds like a fair trade, to me." They grinned at one another, and he could not help but lean over for a short, yet thorough kiss before heading off into the forest, Marian at his side.


	9. Chapter 9

Marian found that she had no regrets concerning the brevity of her stay in Cornwall. Sir Godfrey was every bit as lovely as Robin had said, but his daughters bored her to tears. At first, she had assumed that their love of nothing more than embroidery and fashion was a front, and that more interesting conversations would ensue once they became comfortable with her. However, she was disappointed to learn that they truly found discussions of those topics to be utterly fascinating. Anything she broached was met with blank stares or startled gasps.

So, when her father mentioned that she seemed listless, it was all Marian could do not to kick something in frustration as she explained what she was dealing with. She suggested that she might join the men in their pursuits, rather than spending time with the ladies; but Edward had a different proposal.

She could still hardly believe that it was his idea for her to return to Nottinghamshire, since it meant that she would be taking to Sherwood. But, he accurately deduced that her unhappiness was not solely borne of poor companionship; and he easily brushed aside her protests, as they were not very heartfelt, to begin with. It took a bit longer for him to convince her that he would be fine, although after accomplishing that, he did suggest that she consider coming back for the winter.

He also wrote a letter for her to deliver to Robin, and considering Robin's face as he read it over breakfast the next morning, there were more than merely suggestions within. His expression was not the only thing that caught her eye; the cuts along his cheek and chin were fortunately not severe enough to need stitches, but they were worse than the handful of nicks she had received in their clash, and she felt badly about them. He had said something similar about her injuries, but they honestly were not bothering her.

They were very fortunate that he had spoken out when he had; there could have been a very different ending to that match.

However, all was well that ended well, and there was no sense dwelling on averted tragedies. Marian was quite curious to know what the missive from her father said, considering it obviously had most, if not everything, to do with her; but despite the fact that the rest of the gang was giving Robin and her some space to talk alone, Robin was not inclined to share. She made a mental note to snoop later, but her first order of business was to find out exactly what was going on with so many Night Watchmen running about.

"Why did you attack us?" Robin asked, after she had explained her return, and they began to discuss what had happened the night before. "You could have tried to find out who we were, or what was going on."

Pleasantly surprised by how good eggs cooked over a campfire in the forest could be, she had to swallow a good-sized bite before replying. "For one thing, I might have given my own identity away, and I had no intention of doing that. Also, there were only a few people who knew that I was the Night Watchman, and thus no longer around: you all, my father, and the sheriff. Since it was certainly not my father, and I did not expect to find you running around in my costume, I assumed that the sheriff had to be behind at least part of it. And, as you were the more dangerous of the two, I figured that you were his agent."

Robin gave a small laugh at that. "You are generous to the sheriff's employees." She merely rolled her eyes, and he continued, "But, you are mistaken about who knew the Night Watchman was gone." When he paused and glanced over at the campfire, Marian frowned.

"Well?" she prompted. A few villagers might have noticed that she was absent, but most of them were probably too enamored of Robin and the outlaws to care about one masked figure who did not show off as she left her deliveries.

Looking back at her with a hint of a smile, he said, "Everyone noticed." As her eyes widened in surprise, he explained, "You are the true hope of these people; they were lost without you."

Marian had no idea how to react to that. After Robin saying she did not need to continue with her work now that he was present, and her father wanting her to give it up, and then nearly dying from her last escapade (and Robin pointing that fact out to her), all topped off with making the conscious decision to draw her adventures to a close... it had been a lot to handle. Although she had impressed her father when fending off Allan's brother and the other rogue outlaws, and despite the admiration that Robin voiced once in awhile, their patronizing words were disheartening. She continued to take pride in what she did, and tried not to let their discouragement and chagrin affect her; but she would be lying if she said it had nothing to do with her decision to burn her old mask. She had attributed it to her impending nuptials, and there was a grain of truth to that, because had everything gone awry and she wound up as Lady Gisborne, she would have honored her commitment.

Mainly, she had been more shaken by her near death than she would let anyone, especially Robin or her father, know. Piled on top of her already damaged confidence, she had reacted more impetuously than she normally would have done. In the last several weeks, she came to regret her rash decision, wishing she could be back out and helping again. Yet, she assumed that the people of Nottingham were faring fine without her, which was personally disappointing, though she tried to look past her selfishness and simply be glad that Robin and the others were doing their job.

Hearing that she had been badly missed was a balm to her bruised spirit, even as she regretted that anyone had been upset by her absence. She gave him a small smile of appreciation, but it faded when she noticed something lurking in his gaze. "What?"

"The sheriff hanged a man as the Night Watchman," he said quietly, and her blood froze. He held up a hand and quickly added, "He turned out to be a condemned murderer, and a particularly brutal one; his was not an innocent life." That knowledge eased her mind somewhat, even as she was still bothered that Vaizey had carried out a false execution at all-- and with full knowledge of whom the real Night Watchman was. "However, it had a profound effect on the people you have helped. That is why I adopted your persona, to prove that the sheriff was merely tricking them."

"You proved that by tricking them, yourself?" Marian raised an eyebrow at him, but her amusement was reflected on her features, and the boyish grin which spread over his face sent a little flutter through her insides. That might have irked her, if she was not fully aware that she affected him at least as much as he affected her; as it stood, she ended up returning the grin, enjoying the warm moment.

"It worked, didn't it?" he replied easily.

Both her eyebrows went up at that. "Are you so certain? Perhaps, it was this other Night Watchman who really buoyed their morale." While the statement had been in jest, the subject sobered them both. "You have no idea at all as to their identity?"

Robin's shrug this time was one of sheer bafflement. "As I said last night, all I know is that it's a woman. I would venture to guess that she is not a noble, only because I cannot think of a noblewoman in the area-- other than yourself-- who would be bothered to take on the duties which she has."

Marian had to concede that point. It sounded uncharitable toward their former peers, but facts were facts. Whilst some of the ladies of her acquaintance tried to aid the needy to an extent, none of them would be willing to disguise themselves and run around in the night. And, if they had discovered that she did so, Marian knew she would have been ostracized. Perhaps subtly, so as not to cause a situation; but it would have happened. There was a reason she had grown away from them-- from everyone, really. Until Robin found her out, and then her father, no one had known her true self. The most important part of her life had been hidden from everyone, and that did not exactly foster close relationships. Having them learn of it was a relief, although she could not say the same for having Vaizey know.

She wondered if he had told Guy, and if so, what Guy's reaction had been. He likely did not care anymore, which was fine; after everything he had put her through, Marian was glad to be done with him. She would be gladder when she stopped thinking of him at all, but she supposed it could be forgiven, considering what a large part he had played in the last few years of her life. Now, though, there were more important things to focus on. "I rather wish you thought she was nobility, because that would narrow it down much further. Right now, she could be any of almost half the population of the shire."

Robin blew out a breath as he absently rolled the edges of his now-empty plate around in his palms-- which called Marian's attention to his hands, which she had always thought were lovely, and she appreciated the distraction. "I can think of one good way to get some answers." His eyes met hers, and they both knew that they were thinking the same thing: they needed to find the third Night Watchman. Again.

"Do you know where she'll be?" Marian asked.

"Therein lies the problem. I have not been able to figure out her pattern, if she even has one."

Finishing the last of her breakfast as they mulled that over, Marian picked up her plate and got to her feet. "Well, we are not about to find her, sitting around here."

He grinned up at her before standing as well. "Can't argue that."

The outlaws quickly sorted out their day, including some people they would talk to again who might, even unwittingly, possess a piece of information which could point them in the right direction.

Try as they did, by that night, they were no closer to locating the mysterious woman.

Unfortunately, the sheriff was.


	10. Chapter 10

It was either destiny, or possibly sheer chance, that brought the outlaws to Bonchurch just as the third Night Watchman found herself cornered by Vaizey's men.

Upon hearing everything that had happened in her absence, Marian had been most interested in the theft and subsequent distribution of the plums by the unknown Night Watchman; she pointed out that, while it was understandable for someone to decide to take up the torch, that action was highly unusual. After she mentioned that, Much brought up the intruder at the empty cottage which had formerly belonged to Eve's mother, and Robin could have kicked himself for not noticing that connection sooner.

It was obvious that Bonchurch was some sort of key, and seeing as how his own Night Watchman had not made a delivery there in several days-- although, he could not speak for the other Night Watchman,-- the outlaws decided to make a drop-off and investigate, in the same trip. Robin was more than happy to have Marian reassume her role, especially as he was far more comfortable with ready access to his bow, which had not been possible with the costume.

As it happened, instead of following the plan to quickly make Night Watchman drops and then explore the vacant house, the gang found themselves crouched along the treeline on the outskirts of the village.

At first, it was because they noticed a shadowy figure darting amongst the cottages. After last night's conflict, Robin was confident that any one of them could best The Impostor. It might take a little doing, but they were all more battle-hardened than she; and since there were seven of them now, she would not escape. "Circle round and watch for my signal," he ordered quietly to most of the gang. "Marian, let's go have a chat with your lookalike."

Just as they began to move, so did several other people. The outlaws halted as a dozen or so of the sheriff's men stepped out from behind various buildings, swords in one hand and torches in the other, surrounding The Impostor. She obviously knew that going for her own sword was fruitless, and raised her hands as Vaizey and Guy rode up.

"Well, well, well," the sheriff drawled. "What have we here?"

"Tomorrow's dawn appointment for the executioner," growled Guy.

"Right," Robin muttered, as the guards moved in on the masked woman. "Same plan. Go."

Marian looked at him as the others disappeared into the forest and villagers started emerging from their homes. "What are we doing?" she asked.

Glancing at her, he shook his head. "It's common knowledge now that he already hung one false fugitive; I doubt he wants to make the same move twice. We plant the seeds of doubt regarding her claim to the title, rescue her, and escape." A thoughtful expression came over her features, and Robin experienced a sense of trepidation. "What?"

"He knows that unless he has me, he does not have the right woman (or man). I can prove that I'm the real Night Watchman. The scar on my belly--"

"No." He could argue that revealing it with an audience would be immodest, but he knew how she would react to that, and his actual argument was more personal, anyway. Partly, he did not like the thought of her exposing any part of herself in front of Gisborne, even if the man would not be aware of her identity.

Partly, he still had not entirely come to terms with almost losing her, and did not want to be so clearly reminded of it in public. If it were just the two of them, it would be different; while he would not reveal much in that instance, either, at least it would be easier to for him to process.

As he could not say any of those things, his protest remained a single word, which Marian easily brushed off. "Do not be a fool. It is the best way to free that woman, who cannot possibly defend herself amongst all of those soldiers."

Robin let out a sigh, unable to debate that, much as he would like to. "Very well. Just make sure to stay out of range of the guards, all right?"

"Agreed. I shall need you to speak for me, though, so as not to give myself away."

Knowing there was nothing for it, Robin gestured for them to go. He unsheathed his sword as the two of them rushed out to where the false Night Watchman was being clapped in irons. When they were visible in the torchlight, Robin signaled for the lads to move in as he called, "Congratulations, Sheriff! You have finally caught one of your adversaries, it seems. Or, have you?" As the uniformed men automatically went toward Marian and him, Robin calmly added, "I wouldn't." The gang had taken up position, Much and Djaq with bows drawn, the others ready to jump into a melee, should one be initiated. While the sheriff's contingent outnumbered the outlaws, every person standing in Bonchurch knew who the victors of such a fight would likely be.

The pair on horseback had a more optimistic outlook on their situation. "Hood," Vaizey greeted him shortly, resting against the pommel of his saddle as though bored. "I see you've found your own pet Night Watchman. Step aside, and we can each have our own."

Beside him, Robin could tell Marian was bristling at the adjective. He did not particularly care for it, either. "You know, I think I would prefer if both Night Watchmen left with me." Vaizey rolled his eyes and pretended to yawn, but Robin got his attention again when he said, "At any rate, only one is the true Night Watchman. Would you not like to ensure you have the right one this time?"

The next moment was interesting; Robin could almost read the sheriff's thought processes. Vaizey knew that Marian was the real Night Watchman, and that she was associated with Robin; so, Vaizey would deduce that Robin knew full well what he was saying. Vaizey also knew that she and Edward had evidently escaped Nottingham. Meanwhile, what he could not know for certain was whether or not it was Marian standing beside Robin. If it was, she would be equally cognizant of what was going on; if not, the Night Watchman with Robin might not know most, or any of it.

There was also the question as to what, if anything, the Night Watchman the guards were currently cornering knew.

And, Vaizey was aware that Robin recognized what he was thinking, judging from the keen way he peered at his foe.

Robin gave him a smug, humorless smile. He was winning, and he knew it. "One way to find out," he declared, glancing over at Gisborne.

Delayed realization dawned on the lieutenant's face. "Check his stomach, his lower right side. There should be a wound. A scar," he barked at the men holding The Impostor, who tried to pull away from the men holding her arms as a couple of other guards went toward her.

" _Her_ stomach," Robin corrected in feigned exasperation, hoping to make the guards pause, and glad when they did. " _Her._ "

"What?" Gisborne snarled.

"Are you honestly that blind?" asked Robin incredulously, secretly pleased to be pointing out Gisborne's oversight in front of his men. Apparently, his pleasure was not secret enough, considering how Marian muttered his name warningly, low enough that only he could hear. Ignoring the chide, Robin said, "The Night Watchman is a woman. She always has been."

Distrustful of the outlaw's claim, Gisborne eyed first the captive Night Watchman, and then the one beside Robin, clearly only now realizing their gender. "You lie. Neither of these is the real Night Watchman. I have fought him; it is a man."

On cue, Marian lifted the hem of her shirt and nudged the edge of her trousers down, just enough to reveal the curved scar they had been concealing-- located on an obviously feminine belly.

Robin kept his gaze trained on Vaizey and Gisborne as she did. The sheriff's eyebrows went up a notch as some of his questions were answered. Gisborne looked shocked, and then furious. Before he could respond, however, Vaizey gestured toward The Impostor. "If that is not the Night Watchman, she's useless to us. Kill her."

Even Gisborne seemed surprised by the casual order, but Robin wasted little time in signaling the gang. "Move in!" he called, and jumped forward, Marian doing the same alongside him, whilst the gathering of villagers ran for the safety of their homes.

The Impostor could do nothing with her hands shackled, and both Robin and Marian set their sights on freeing her. At least, reacting to their attack kept her guards from carrying out their orders. Blocking a blade which was aimed to split his skull open, Robin kicked out, knocking one soldier back. Another came up behind him and swung as he was about to regain his footing, and he ducked to avoid a slash across the back; turning as he straightened, he brought his own sword around, slicing into the armor of that attacker.

Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Marian spinning around behind the guard who tried to attack her, kicking the man high in the back, into another who was coming to assist, which took them both down. Little John had plowed into the fray, knocking three guards senseless with a couple mightly swings of his staff, and sending another running-- only to be stopped by Will, who quickly repulsed the man's sword with his larger axe and knocked him unconscious with the flat of his smaller axe. Allan got a surprisingly skilled opponent, and traded several blows back and forth. He only managed to get the upper hand when Will shouldered another guard aside, who ended up next to Allan. The guard had started to drop his sword as he stumbled, and Allan reflexively grabbed it with his free hand; the extra blade gave him the advantage he needed to bring his foe down.

Djaq and Much were a moment behind the others, having had to trade their bows for melee weapons before charging in. This worked well, since the sheriff's men were already occupied with the other outlaws. Therefore, it was with very little effort that they succeeded in getting to the shackled Night Watchman, who was trapped against a cottage by the battle. A guard noticed their efforts, but Djaq fended him off while Much checked the iron bindings on The Impostor.

"These won't be easy to take off," he told Djaq.

Robin, dispatching one of the few remaining sheriff's men nearby, ordered, "Get her out of here." He would have said more, but had to focus on parrying a rush by another guard.

"All right." Much swung the masked woman over his shoulder, muttering an uncomfortable, "Sorry," to her as an afterthought. It might not have been the best position for her, but it left his sword hand free to defend them; still, between the diminished number of guards and the gang engaging those who did remain, it was not difficult for them to get away, accompanied by Djaq.

Gisborne spurred his mount to pursue them, but Vaizey stopped him. "Get the _real_ Night Watchman. And Hood, while you're at it." That said, the sheriff got his own horse into motion, moving back a safe distance from the fighting.

Swinging around, Gisborne rode toward Marian as she finished off her last adversary. Robin heard the command, yet was facing a rather stubborn soldier, and did not fell him until just before the horse and rider reached Marian. He need not have been concerned, as she cartwheeled away from the hand Gisborne extended to snag her. Her unknowing ex-fiancé jumped out of the saddle, unsheathing his sword and stalking toward her. Robin took one step in their direction, but heard Will call out a warning just as something crashed into him, knocking him forward. Stumbling forward several steps, he pivoted, bringing his fist up in the same motion, which caught the last remaining guard on the jaw. The man dropped like a stone, and Robin went back toward where Marian was adeptly fending Gisborne off.

The sheriff's man-at-arms had size and strength on his side, but the former sheriff's daughter had uncanny agility, and the resulting match was more even than might have been expected. He would swing at her, and she would spin or roll as she parried the hit, diffusing the power he might have put into it. The exchange was moving them away from the cottages; now that the outlaws were the only ones left standing in the road, they rushed as one toward the last remaining combat.

From as far as he could be without actually leaving, Vaizey yelled, " _Do_ something, Gisborne! I don't pay you to dance!"

By then, however, the gang was on the verge of ringing Gisborne in, and he backed away before they could trap him, moving toward his horse. Glaring daggers at Robin and Marian as he retreated, he grumbled, "This is not over. I have nearly killed you once"-- he gestured with his sword at Marian,-- "and your day is coming, Hood."

"I'm looking forward to it," Robin bit out. "We will settle this, once and for all."

Reaching his horse, Gisborne swung up. When he was seated, he replied, "You can count on it. And you." He sniffed derisively at the masked figure beside Robin, more confident now that he was mounted. "It's obvious what's going on here. Hood's whore," he said, making a _tsking_ noise as he glanced back at Robin. "What would Marian say, I wonder?"

Robin was torn between the urge to yank him off the horse and kill him efficiently and painfully for the label he had just used, or laugh at the irony. He rather wished Marian would reveal her identity then, but did not expect it-- and was thus not disappointed. "Run along to your master, before I decide to settle things now," he snapped.

"Do not tempt me," Gisborne snarled.

Vaizey chose then to bellow, "If you're not going to be useful, Gisborne, I will be looking to find your replacement!" With that, he took off toward the Great North Road; and, with one final glare at the assembled group, Gisborne rode off after him.

After a moment of silence where everyone adjusted to the sudden lack of activity, Robin finally said, "Let's find Much and Djaq, and The Impostor." He was still seething over the argument, but needed to let it go.

"I saw them head for that abandoned cottage, the one we were going to check out," Will supplied.

With a nod of thanks, Robin declared, "It is time to learn who the third Night Watchman is."


	11. Chapter 11

"I almost have it," Djaq was saying, as the rest of the group walked into the small abode. She was working on picking the lock on the shackles, in the dim light provided by a candle stub Much was holding out. The Impostor was still masked, which confused Marian, although none of the others seemed to think anything of it. "There!" cried Djaq triumphantly, as the irons thudded onto the dirt floor. Holding up the hairpin she had used to accomplish that, she added, "You may have this back now."

The Impostor snatched the wire back and slid it under her hood, and then turned to face the outlaws. She seemed understandably nervous, yet less so than Marian would have expected.

Beside Marian, Robin crossed his arms as he regarded their captive. "Now that your hands are free, remove your mask."

"Let me go," the woman replied, in a rasp apparently meant to disguise her voice. "I have done nothing to you."

"You have impersonated the real Night Watchman," Robin pointed out casually. "And you attacked me on the road."

"Because you would not leave me be."

His jaw set. "Remove your mask."

While Marian recognized that Robin's tone was implacable, The Impostor made one more desperate attempt to dissuade him, indicating Marian. "Why must I? She has not."

Robin started to speak, but Marian reached up, pushing her hood back and removing the mask (which was actually something of a relief; the leathersmith in Truro made this one much stiffer than the Clun craftsman used to do). She knew that she had surprised everyone else in the room, and honestly, she was not sure why she did it.

Yet, it worked. After a gasp of recognition, the mystery woman hesitantly reached for her own hood, pushing it back to reveal thick, blonde hair. Then, with a sideways glance to where Much stood, still holding the bit of candle, she took off her mask.

Marian frowned. What was the servant girl from Bonchurch, the one who had spied for the sheriff, doing masquerading as the Night Watchman?

"Eve?" Much asked incredulously, as the others exchanged baffled looks. When Marian looked to Robin, he shook his head in the same bewilderment most of them were apparently feeling. Much, however, was clearly pleased. "What are you doing here? Why... Why did you not say anything?" That thought seemed to bother him.

With a helpless motion of her hand, she replied, "I meant to. When I first came back, it was with the intention of finding you."

"It sounds as though you had plenty of opportunities," Marian commented, not trusting the woman.

Eve's expression reflected acknowledgement of Marian's doubt, before turning back to Much. "I did. Yet, I kept thinking I was making a mistake; you said you would find me when there was justice again, and that has not happened. I felt like I was discrediting you, being impatient when I should be trusting you to achieve that goal.

"And then, I saw an opportunity to help you achieve it."

"You heard the Night Watchman had vanished," Robin murmured.

She nodded. "I am not a fighter, not like the real Night Watchman. Like you, Lady Marian," she said haltingly, as though she still could not quite believe that. "But, I did try to practice with a sword I borrowed from a smithy. And the main purpose was to help people, as you do," she added, giving Much a smile bordering on shy.

Marian, however, remained unconvinced. "You worked for the sheriff once before. How do we know we can trust you?" Much glanced at her in alarm, but the others seemed to share her reservations. "Perhaps, this is your way to get back into his good graces-- by worming your way into the gang, and then selling them out."

"I do not blame you for wondering that. And, I have no way to prove that it's not true. What I do have is warm greetings from a kitchen maid called Annie, who works for Lady Glasson."

"Annie?" Allan cut in. "Seth's mum?"

Eve nodded at him. "I met her in a market after leaving here, without knowing of her ties to Nottingham, or any of you. She got me employment with her ladyship, who was also willing to take in my mother, and it was not long before we learned one anothers' stories. She was actually the one who convinced me to return. As did Mother, who is very happy with her employment there." Eve concluded, "I realize that it proves nothing, but it is hopefully a reference of sorts."

Most of the outlaws seemed as undecided as Marian felt. While she did not know how Eve could have learned where Annie had gone-- it had been a carefully planned, secret arrangement,-- what she said was true: it proved nothing.

One of the outlaws besides Much, however, was apparently willing to take a chance. "You will be closely watched," Robin told her. "If your behavior ever becomes even slightly suspicious, you're out."

That implied that she was in. Marian stared at him, wondering what he was thinking. He read her concern, but indicated his former manservant. Much beamed first at Robin, then at Eve, and then back to Robin again. "Oh, that is wonderful-- that's excellent!"

Eve grinned excitedly at him, and then sincerely at Robin. "You will have no cause to doubt me."

"See that we do not," he said, effectively drawing the discussion to a close, and winking at Marian.

She would have to ask him later when he began fancying himself a matchmaker, although she could not entirely disapprove.

"I have a question," Djaq spoke up. When they all turned to her, she asked Eve, "Why did you steal the plums?"

"I knew it would anger the sheriff." Growing more wistful, Eve said, "And, I knew those families would enjoy them. Most have likely never tasted one. It's always been a secret pleasure here to snag a plum from the orchard now and then, a benefit of living in Bonchurch--" She suddenly cut off, realizing Robin had been the lord of the village, and his family before him. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He smiled at her. "I know. There has always been a section in the accounts allotting for villagers' use." That obviously surprised her. "It would lose the fun if you knew. And, this way, it did not get out of control," he explained with a grin. "So, do not spread that knowledge."

After a beat, she laughed again. "I suppose that's fair. In fact, I still have some, if any of you would like them." Without waiting for an answer, she went over to a corner of the room and pulled back a board, revealing a section of false wall. Behind it was a small stash of food, including the promised fruit.

"That's why there was the break-in," Will said, as if to himself, clearly fascinated by the hiding place; John nodded at him.

She reached in, and then stood and turned, holding out a plum for whoever wished to take it. Much hesitated a moment, and then gratefully accepted it, an expression of pure bliss crossing his face as he took a bite.

That was all the rest of them needed, and the other outlaws immediately stepped up for one. Marian was last, and she could tell that Eve was uncertain as to where they stood. In all honesty, so was Marian; but, while she would be on her guard, she was inclined to believe the woman's claims. Accepting a piece of fruit, Marian gave her a tentative smile, receiving one in return.

A short time later, they were all walking through Sherwood, back toward the day's camp. Much and Eve were at the fore, chatting happily. John and Djaq were behind them, discussing how best to distribute the rest of the stash from the cottage; they were carrying that food in a makeshift satchel, fashioned from Eve's Night Watchman cloak.

Will and Allan were behind them. "All these women in the gang now," Will said. "They shouldn't be sleeping on the ground."

"Djaq's been doing it," Allan argued. "And anyway, what's the other option? A feather bed at the castle?"

Shooting him a humored look, Will answered, "Djaq's different, though she shouldn't have to, either. I was thinking of a permanent camp. Maybe something with bunks."

"Gonna have to figure out how many bunks to make." Allan grinned mischievously. "That might not be as many as you think."

Will shook his head and chuckled.

"I wonder," Allan continued musingly. "That Annie bird-- she was all right. Think she might come back?"

"How would I figure that into a number of bunks?" countered Will, with a hint of sarcasm.

Allan did not take the bait. "You'd definitely need to figure one for the kid." Then he groaned. "Never mind... not again. No more babies in camp."

Beside Marian, Robin laughed under his breath. The two were bringing up the rear, but were near enough to overhear the entire conversation. "What's so funny?" she asked, swinging their joined hands a little further than they were naturally moving as they walked.

She could tell he had a thought as he glanced at her, and she wondered for a moment if he was not going to reply. At first, that seemed to be true. "It's nothing," he said. Then, finally, he amended, "It's that Allan is not the only one thinking that way."

Marian frowned. "What do you mean?"

Robin smiled to himself, looking down at the ground in front of them. Despite the darkness of the night, their eyes were adjusted, and could make out the tree roots and rocks in the path. "Let's just say that I am under strict orders regarding your stay in the forest."

Realization dawned. "The letter from my father." When Robin nodded, she became even more determined to find and read that parchment. "Well, I hope those orders are ones you can follow indefinitely, because I have no intention of leaving."

His humor was replaced with contentment when he looked over at her. "I am glad to hear that." He raised their hands, placing a light kiss on the back of hers before dropping them down again. "And, I can take orders when I must." His eyebrow arching impishly, he leaned toward her and added, "Of course, I am always willing to have those orders overturned..."

She rolled her eyes and reached over to give his shoulder a light shove with her free hand, laughing as she did so, and earning a chuckle from him.

Marian would have preferred having a proper home to go to, rather than enduring the chill of the ground seeping through her blankets as she slept.

But, all things considered, this would do nicely, for now.


End file.
